Live to Rise
by Mad Scientist Sidekick
Summary: Final part of the "Something to Avenge" trilogy. The Avengers are scattered all over Panem, spreading hope to the Districts. The rebels have the upper hand for now, but General Schmidt has gone after something to even the odds. The Avengers will have to put aside their issues and come together if they are to survive the heinous plans Snow has in store for them.
1. Ruins (Schmidt)

Chapter 1

Ruins

General Schmidt

It's been two months since the bombing of District 12. We set out almost immediately afterwards – the voyage had been planned for years, but the revelation that that buffoon Haymitch Abernathy can wield Mjolnor forced our hand and we set out earlier.

It took only two weeks to cross the Atlantic and make landfall in what was once Portugal – far longer than the record of 3 days, but not bad, considering the history of transatlantic ship crossing. The real difficulty was crossing the landmass. It was easier because we had hovercrafts – our progress is slowed by the remnants of civilization. We stop and send scouts to the cities before we dare fly over them or even close by – we don't know who has survived and what capabilities they may have.

So far, even though most of the old cities are habitable or habitable with only a little work, they are all abandoned by humanity.

Not that human life is entirely absent from the continent – from the air we see signs of active crops, and when we land to check the hovercraft and unload the barrels we brought for refueling, sometimes we stumble on camps that can only be from humans. In happier circumstances, we would seek discussions with them (does any trace of English remain here?) and find out why they've never attempted to retake their cities. My suppositions include a fear of radioactivity or some superstition that has grown out from this very real fear in the generations since the Devouring.

In less urgent times, I would have stopped in the great ruined cities in hopes of discovering that some of the artwork and architecture have survived the bombings and storms that almost destroyed humanity and years of decay. There will be time enough when the rebellion is put down, I remind myself when I think of all the possible wonders we have passed by. As it is, I am content to fly over and try to spot some of the sculptures and notable buildings from the air.

There are also physical obstacles – mountains are difficult to manage for hovercrafts. The Alps provide some tension – the ride over them is rough and there are a few times I'm not sure the hovercraft will make it, and the mission will fail far from home.

We arrive in what was once Tønsberg, Norway. It was never a huge city, with a population of less than a quarter million at it's most populous, but it is old, perhaps the oldest city in Norway. Who knows how long the Tesseract has been here?

It will be a shame if we have to raze Tønsberg, considering its history. I hope that any residents who are left are reasonable.

We disembark from the hovercrafts and are immediately aware of the presence of other humans. We don't see them right away – but we hear the unmistakable sounds of whispering and of shod human feet hurrying away when we turn in the direction of the whispering. I admit the effect is somewhat eerie, but we are all soldiers here – we press on to the old church without hesitation.

Apparently, some of the running feet warn the keepers of the treasure that we're coming, because there is an old man waiting for us in front of the church. "Greetings," he says to us, and the fact he greets us in English surprises me. "Do you speak English?" His own English is stiff and oddly accented, clearly learned from books. But it's more than passable.

"We do."  
"You hail from America," he says stiffly, and I wonder how he would have happened upon enough knowledge of spoken English to guess this. Perhaps through some kind of recorded media, if a player survived. He must have been waiting for this moment for years – who knows how many languages he has mastered, just in case someone should land here, looking for the jewel he is protecting?  
"We call what's left of it Panem now," I say gravely, and he nods solemnly. "We have come to look for a tool. A powerful tool to help us rebuild our nation, and yours when we are able."

"Your goal is noble, my friend, but you don't know the power of the Tesseract …"  
"I am afraid you misunderstand me, Keeper," I say. "We intend to return home with it, and while I would prefer to obtain your consent, it doesn't matter to us either way." The soldiers grip their guns, and it makes a good show.

"You don't understand what it will do – it can rip holes in …"  
"I'm well aware of the danger, Keeper," I say impatiently. "Please, events in Panem have forced my hand, and I have no time for niceties. Lead me to your jewel, or we will be forced to take drastic measures." He catches my drift, but doesn't step aside.

"Please don't do this – you'll destroy yourself," he begs. "You will burn!"

"I already have," I answer coldly, having to stop myself from stroking my face when I remember how my skin burned.

He leads to me a tomb and tries to trick me – I glare at him sharply and note my skepticism. You wouldn't bury the crown jewel of Odin deep in a tomb somewhere. I look around and find an elaborate carving which depicts scenes from the Norse religion – I examine it closely, and after a little time, I find a knot, disguised as the eye of a serpent, and when I press it the wall yields. All the while the old man continues pleading – for his town, for me to see "reason" about the Tesseract. "With all due respect – my nation retains enough science and technology to study this artifact, rather than bury it," I insist, realizing I will calm him down if I make it seem as though we only intend passive study for the time being. I've played my hand too soon on that, by expressing how urgently I need it, but I can blur the lines. "We hope to put it to use rebuilding – if it's safe," I add softly, as though I've just realized I was misunderstood. I bluffed about taking the village, and my men could do it, but it would cost time and resources I will not lose lightly. He has no choice, so he only nods reluctant consent as I take the Tesseract and carefully place it in a glass tube – that tube will not do much in case of malfunction, but it's still no doubt safer than handling it barehanded.

The odds should be in our favor now.

* * *

**Author's Note**

… And we're back!

Previous Stories:  
Something to Avenge: s/9775871/1/Something-to-Avenge

Fire and Lightning: s/9800136/1/Fire-and-Lightning

I've made a couple of changes to _Something to Avenge _and _Fire and Lightning_. The relevant chapters if you want to read for yourself are 31, 37, and 38 of _Something to Avenge_, and chapter 38 of _Fire and Lightning_. If not I'll summarize – instead of Rue getting killed by shrapnel in _Something to Avenge_, Cato threw her during his fight with Peeta and she sustained a head injury which killed her eventually. I did this so that her death was more directly connected to the Games. The changes to _Fire and Lightning _were mainly just so certain developments in part III don't come out of nowhere – I have Schmidt speculate that he may have been the one who ordered Stephen's parents killed, and also refer to Tony as a "half-breed." Since I see District 3 as being predominantly composed of people of Asian descent (I don't put it beyond the Capitol to separate people based on race) it makes sense that Tony, though mostly of European descent, has some Asian heritage on his mother's side. Nothing bothers racists more than interracial couples – they may hate a given race, but they hate "traitors" even more. Even though obviously it's a different setting so he's not actually a Nazi, I still wanted to maintain the bigoted aspect of his character.

I get the impression that Schmidt had a good case of what the folks at tvtropes would call "Wicked Cultured" going on, at least in the MCU, considering that his whole mission in life is based on Nordic mythology, we hear him listening to opera at several points, and he had his portrait painted in classical style. This was par for the course for Nazi leadership, but also goes into his role as nemesis to Steve (who is an artist – in comics he's sometimes said to have work as an illustrator and in the movie you see him making a pretty impressive drawing when Peggy goes to talk to him). Schmidt also strikes me as a very pragmatic villain – if he had the men to spare, he would totally kill a bunch of the townspeople like he does in the movie. However, I don't think he'd be the kind to be evil to the point of being self-destructive, because he doesn't strike me as a madman. Which is chilling in it's own way, if you think about it.

So after reading some of the suggested changes to make _Mockingjay_ less depressing in adaptation to film on a Buzzfeed article (here's the link adambvary/hunger-games-mockingjay-problems) and the overwhelmingly negative response to it, I want to clarify something.

_Mockingjay_ is a wonderfully dark, depressing, and psychologically realistic book. It is a harrowing read. I hope they don't change any of it when they make the movie.

But that's not what I'm writing.

I'm not Suzanne Collins. I don't have anything important to say about war and the waste of young lives by the government. For that, please go read _Mockingjay_ or read it again. I've tried to echo her themes as best as I can but I know I fell short, especially in this installment.

When I set out to write this, I thought I would blend the light-hearted _Avengers_ and grimdark _Hunger Games_ tones for something in the middle. So far my tone has skewed much closer to _Hunger Games_, all though I have already spared a ton of characters by the adaptation (or have I? They're not out of the woods yet). Don't get me wrong, this story will go to some dark places, but it will not get as dark as _Mockingjay_, not because I'm untalented (all though that may also be the case, I'll let you judge) or because I don't have the stomach for it (my original fiction is all about eating disorders, suicide, and terminal illnesses because I have some experience with the former two [as a witness] and I do research that will hopefully help people with the latter, so I feel like I _do _have something to say about those) but because of what the _Avengers _characters represent and what Katniss and Peeta represented in the first two books, and continued to represent in a tarnished way in _Mockingjay_. Hope. Power used for good. Courage despite the odds. It's still a dark setting, and this is probably a betrayal to the original intent, but I let those things infect my crossover at a much higher rate than they did in canon. I don't think that's a bad thing (all though you may disagree – let me know in reviews). Just … radically different from canon. So … if you haven't read _Mockingjay _yet go read it but brace yourself for tears. I'm hoping you'll cry at this too but … not nearly as much.


	2. Gotta Keep Dancing (Danvers)

Chapter 2

Gotta Keep Dancing

Danvers

Finnick and Annie are a cute couple – they're so in love I can see the glow from clear across the room. There's never much time for joy in the Districts, but we take it where we can. We can dance, that's for sure – we're showing up the Capitol traitors and Thirteeners here at this reception.

Well, I say we – but I stand in the back, watching. It's been months, and I still think Phillip's going to come through the door – I'm going to try to show him how to dance and he's going to be bad at it and I'll laugh at him but have a great time trying to show him. The way that Spruce Banner looks like he's having more fun teaching his little Capitol girlfriend to dance than he would dancing with anyone who knew how – only there wouldn't be so much kissing and such with Phillip and me. My understanding is the Capitol does have something they call dancing, but it's either this really stiff, formal dancing, or a more casual style that's really more of rubbing up on each other and shaking and getting as close to sex as you could get without risking pregnancy – I can't see this one going for that given how she blushes whenever we tease her about the reason Spruce had to save her from being made an Avox (she insists it was just kissing and a map and gets furious). I know she doesn't like the role she's been pushed into – now that Spruce is alive and they can't use him as a martyr anymore and he can't talk about what happened to him without risking an episode, it's left to her to testify about what she saw and, mostly, stand there and look sad on behalf of her boyfriend – I'm told the Capitol is really sympathetic towards her and I hope it doesn't reach the point where they think she's being held here against her will or something (which, really, that would have been a coup for the Capitol to claim that from the beginning).

Mags leads Thresh in the dance and I can't help but laugh – I hope I can dance and have that much confidence when I'm her age.

Haymitch and Chaff are having a bit too much fun … Haymitch's reunion with District 12's moonshine maker must have been very emotional for both of them, I think with a grin, before I wonder what she makes the liquor from around here, and if it's any good.

I decide I might as well get some punch, even though I really don't want to look at the person who's currently camped out by the refreshment table.

I deliberately choose not to look at Clint Barton as I dip out the punch. He's telling Katniss about how similar their weddings are in 10, and going into the couple of differences. She looks over his shoulder and sees me, and takes his hand to pull him back out on the dance floor. "Come on – you can tell me any time," she says as she does, and I'm incredibly grateful to her – even if she only did it because she thinks I'll make a scene. Making a scene isn't in my nature.

I remind myself it's not Clint's fault and try not to be bitter as I see him smile – he's put most of his normal weight back on and they fixed the gaps in his teeth now so he'll be recognizable as the sweet little boy Duke Barton volunteered to save, even though he's now a grown man. It's his first time out in "public" since …

I don't want to think about it.

I sweep the crowd instinctively, looking for Tony – there are tons of guards on duty just to make sure they don't spot each other – but of course he's already gone slinking off with one or two of the beautiful girls he was dancing with. It didn't take him long to be back to his old ways after we buried Shale – at least he's not drunk all the time though, so, that's a silver lining I suppose.

I take a breath and tell myself I'm not a hypocrite for ragging on Tony's drunkenness – I don't get drunk off the little bottles of alcohol rations I have squirreled away throughout my room. I just take the edge off.

The fiddler and the boy on the harmonica change to a slow song – a bunch of people nervously start looking around and head off to the edges of the room but, of course, the couples love it. Katniss and Clint are on the east edge of the dance floor, so I don't look over there. I spot Prim and Stephen dancing slow, almost lost in the middle of the crowd of older, taller couples. I wonder what Katniss makes of her sister dating one of her teammates. Peeta takes his spot on the wall – I have to laugh at the poor boy. He's fallen into Phillip's old role as Team Nanny – I do what I can to help him, and they're better behaved now. I guess they were all chastened by their loss …

Again, I don't want to think about it.

And of course the night can't be completely without drama – that would be too easy. And it breaks out less than fifteen feet from me. Wonderful. "Why are you dancing with my girl, Hawthorne?" I hear Duke's voice demand, and I whirl to see it – Duke absolutely is a brawler and I want to put it down as quick as I can. He's pushed himself between Gale and Johanna – Gale's hands make fists and I know he's ready to fight back. Peeta's already tensed up and ready to come and try, probably uselessly, to make peace.

"I'm not your girl, Barton, back off," Johanna snaps and pushes him away, and I step in before it can escalate any quicker.

"Come on, let's go cool off," I say quickly, putting a hand on Duke's arm.

"I don't need to cool off, I need …"  
"If you insist on making a scene, I will have to take you down," I say sharply, and he knows I mean business – I've done it before – so he follows. Duke has taken a very … unexpected turn since he got here. He frightens all of us – I think he even makes Clint nervous. Actually, I dare to glance to the east end and see the look on Clint's face and I know he does. Katniss has a hand on Clint's shoulder but she doesn't look happy – I know she doesn't want to see her best friend and Duke in a fight. She'd probably break it up very roughly, wouldn't she?

We get out in the hall where we can breathe, and I slam the door shut. "You need to back off Johanna …" I start.

"Stay out of my business," he snaps at me. "It's … complicated between her and me. Why don't you yell at her for going and slinking around on other …"  
"It's over, Duke – she's made up her mind, and she can dance with whoever she wants …"  
"It's not over," he says adamantly, and I don't know how to argue with the crazy man.

"Look, don't embarrass your friend – it's his wedding, he doesn't need a scene at his wedding."  
"But she …" At that moment, Spruce and Betty come outside – they're laughing and probably just looking for a little privacy, but Duke was never the one to give anyone the benefit of the doubt.

"You come out here to defend your mentor, Banner?" he asks, and Spruce looks confused – he probably didn't even see the argument. I silently will them to walk away – Duke calls Betty "Spruce's Capitol Whore" behind their backs and it's only a matter of time before he says it to her face and I'm pretty sure that will be the moment Spruce has an incident in the middle of District 13. Of course he doesn't get my mental message – that would be too easy.

"No … she can defend herself, but why would I need to?" Spruce asks suspiciously.

"Okay I can tell you two were just looking for a little alone time so why don't you two just move along …" I say quickly, and thankfully they both seem to take the bait – Betty puts a hand on Spruce's arm and they start to walk away.

"Johanna ever sleep with you, Banner?" Spruce looks completely stunned by the question, understandably.

"What?" he asks flatly.

"Marty wanted her to tell everyone that – I was just wondering if there was any basis to it," Duke says casually. Betty rolls her eyes – I'm glad she's not as insecure as Duke must think she is. "I was just thinking since dark-haired and easy is your type and all …"

Before I can react, Spruce has Duke pressed against the wall, his arm cutting off his airway. His watch that's also a heart rate monitor is beeping frantically, and I see a hint of green in his dark brown eyes and I act quickly – I jab him in the neck with the tranq darts I and all the other guards had been carrying, less because we were worried about Spruce and more because we worried about Tony and Clint running into each other. But it gets the job done – he collapses instantly and the green disappears from his eyes before they close. Betty breaks his fall, catching him in her arms. I know he's going to be fine but I call for medics anyway. She slowly sits down with him, obviously worried. "He'll be all right, Betty – that dose was meant for Clint, and Spruce weighs more. I was more worried it wouldn't work quickly enough …"  
"Why did you have something to jab my little brother?" Duke demands.

"In case he saw Tony and flipped out – I don't think that's unreasonable," I say quickly.

"Why does Clint have to be the one treated like a criminal when …"  
"Because he killed someone!" Betty says sharply, and I'm grateful to her. "No it wasn't his fault – but he did. You don't see Spruce throwing a fit about the security he has to have, and he hasn't killed anyone since …"  
"Since he plowed through a few dozen of your people – or did you forget that?" Duke asks sharply. She narrows her eyes at him and then, after being silent for a long moment in which I imagine she considers her options, she punches Duke behind the knee. I know a hateful spiel will follow, so I break it up quickly. I take Duke away by putting an arm over his shoulder and steering him roughly, and I turn his anger to me.

"I didn't want him to be allowed to come. Phillip was my best friend." We walk on down the hall, towards the brig. I hate to do it but I don't know where else to put him to cool off. "A lot of us were against it – Spruce and Tony fought for him. Tony offered to stay away if we thought it was necessary, Spruce said he should be allowed a second chance after everything he went through. They both beat themselves up over what happened, even though all Tony did was be stupid and all Spruce did was not turn into the Hulk sooner." Duke looks sour but doesn't say anything – I remember what he went through as a tribute and victor and I try to be sympathetic.

As I go, the medics come to check on Spruce – they don't look concerned, I knew they wouldn't. I take Duke to the brig and put him in the cool-off room – once he's ready to go home to Clint, they'll let him out, but he'll be away from the others for a while. "Duke – I know it's been rough, man, but you've got to get a lid on it," I say as I turn the key the guard hands me in the lock. He nods – and for the first time I think he understands how much he's alienating everyone, but the sad part is I don't think he can stop it.

I step out and pass the cell where Duke and Phillip laid to wait out the bombing – I pause there for a long time.

I head back to the banquet hall – Peeta will notice if I'm gone for too long, and I don't want to alarm him by making him think the situation was more serious than it was.


	3. Red Strings (Katniss)

Chapter 3

Red Strings

Katniss

"Are you okay?" I ask Clint. His cheeks and ears are red and he's biting the inside of his cheek – I wonder if he's more embarrassed or worried about his brother.

"I'm fine," he says evenly. If I didn't know better I'd believe him.

"Dance with me a while?" I ask, knowing it will make him feel better to dance and hold me tight for a while. He nods and smiles and takes my hands. By now the music has picked up again – but that doesn't stop him. We take our place in the line and dance until the fiddler finally stops. We notice, of course, that everyone's sitting down by then except the District 12 survivors and all of Clint's District 10 compatriots – I guess that's one thing we have in common. "District 13 didn't train," he says. We're both breathing heavy and sweating – I know the joke he's going to make before he makes it. "I was hoping to see you all hot and bothered."

"You make that joke about everything, get some new material," I tease him, and I try to say it sharply but I can't stop myself from smiling. I like being with him when it's like this.

"I notice the squad of guards is gone. How many girls was Stark with?" he asks, and even broaching this subject makes me a little nervous but he's calm right now.

"Four."

"I don't get it. Is he hot?" I know better than to answer truthfully – if it was Finnick he was asking about, I'd tell the truth and he'd probably laugh at it. But this is Tony, and honestly his personality really does put me off.

"I don't think so. A lot of girls think so though, I guess." He shrugs. I don't even mind this – it's kind of sad, but I can be there for him and help him as long as he needs.

Everyone starts to disband and we decide we better go pick up his brother – we'll have to find Danvers and ask where he went – and then get on the hovercrafts. He puts a hand on my shoulder and holds me back, and he's got this serious look on his face. This is the part I hate. "I've got something really important to ask you," he starts. My heart hammers against my sternum – I take a moment to desperately hope he's not going to ask what I think he's going to ask, but then he kneels down and takes something from his front pocket and I know better. The huge crowd of people knows too – they gasp in a happy way and everyone freezes in their tracks. The thing he pulls out is a ring – simple and brass, but beautiful in its simple way. Probably his mother's, or else he got it from someone who believes in us so much they gave him a precious family heirloom. In my peripheral vision, I see Prim eagerly making her way through the crowd, trying to see, and Stephen lets her climb on his back so she can see over everyone's heads. I bet she's thrilled her boyfriend (sorry, friend who's a boy) is that strong.

"Will you marry me?" Clint asks, looking very serious, like his life depends on my answer. I wish the room was empty – most of all I wish Cressida wasn't here with her camera crew. Even if we were alone, I don't think I could break his heart – but it'd be a hell of a lot easier to say no without a few dozen witnesses and a camera crew hoping to get some more heartwarming signs of hope among the rebels. I freeze for a long moment, panicked, and wonder if running away is an option. I know of course that it's not and I kneel down by him, stalling and desperately hoping I can fake happiness well enough. "Yes, Clint, yes," I finally say, forcing a hopefully convincing smile and kissing him on the lips. Inevitably it gets passionate – I usually like kissing him but right now I almost can't stand it. My acceptance is met with thunderous applause and cheers. I pull away and I'm sure he wonders why I'm so hesitant, but he puts the ring on my finger – it's already burning. Hopefully he thinks I'm just embarrassed because we have so many witnesses – he hugs me tight. His brother's going to be upset he missed it – of course I'm sure he'll see the video about a million times.

Almost as soon as I'm on my feet Prim finally breaks through and hugs me tight – and then turns around and hugs Clint just as tight. I know she's thrilled at the thought of finally having a brother and the thought of disappointing her is almost as bad as the thought of hurting Clint or letting down everyone who's looking to me and the other Avengers for hope. Mom is there shortly afterwards, and her cheeks are wet. If she knew I never wanted kids or a husband, she'd probably be even happier to think I changed my mind. I scan the crowd for Gale, but he's nowhere to be found. I'm not sure if he'd already left or he saw it and stormed off – I desperately hope for the former.

It takes forever to make our way to the hovercrafts – everyone wants to stop and congratulate us – and I have to keep smiling the whole time, even though all I want to do is tell him it's too soon and that I don't know if I'll ever want the life he wants and now's not exactly the time to worry about it. We've been repairing aircraft and building new ones and training like crazy for a full-on assault and of course the war never really stopped, even though it's at a relative lull now – 3, 4, 8, and 11 are ours and we're making inroads in 5, 7, and 10, which the Capitol wants desperately to change, and various members of the Avengers have been called in to help break up ground assaults and make inroads in different Districts several times. Finnick and Annie's wedding, the wedding of two people who've been in love forever and absolutely deserved it, is supposed to be our last day of peace – a calm before the storm. It's not time for dumb kids to be running around playing house.

We finally get back to base – we have training in the morning and I already know the recently promoted Colonel Hill isn't about to let us sleep in just because of a little thing like a wedding. Or a proposal. I'm hoping I can use that as an excuse to shake Clint for the night while I think about what I'm going to tell him.

Of course, I don't have any such luck. "Will you stay with me tonight?" he asks. I could kick him – he asks me that right in front of my mother. He realizes what he said almost as soon as the words leave his mouth. He quickly adds, "Since there's training tomorrow and we might as well leave together …"

"It's okay, Clint. I trust you both," she says with a little smile. I've stayed the night with him a few times (usually talking him down after nightmares) and she's never acted like she thought something happened. That doesn't help me at the moment – the last thing I want is to spend the next few hours with Clint, but that's exactly what's going to happen.

Clint takes me by the hand – of course – and we head to his quarters. I know the way by heart – I've made my way there in the dark, following a worried Duke, many nights. I find myself hoping that Danvers forgot to get Duke from wherever she put him and he won't find out about it until morning – at the very least he's on a different hovercraft from us.

Duke and Clint share family quarters even though most people in their situation would just share bachelor quarters – they tend to just put two guys or two girls together if they're both single. But then again, given Clint's state of mind, I guess they wanted to give him a little comfort.

He steps in first, and I shut the door behind me, bracing myself because I expect him to attack me with kisses. What happens instead is even worse. The door shuts, and before I can turn to face him, he says it. "You don't want to marry me, do you?" I don't turn to face him, not right away. "Is it because of Gale?" Two months ago, I would have turned on my heel and demanded to know why he would ever think that – but I remember the look on Gale's face the first time Clint came hunting with us, and now I know exactly why.

"No – Gale's got nothing to do with this," I say, and that hurts too. I never thought Gale would react this way to … well I never thought I'd have a boyfriend so I can't say I ever had any idea how Gale would react.

"So it's just … me," he says, and he sounds so defeated. I have to turn and face him now.

"No it's … I just never wanted to get married. And the idea of having kids was always inconceivable." I really hope he'll take the bait and point out the obvious pun, but he doesn't. "Because I always thought the future was just more … of what it was. Starvation and cave-ins and the Games …"  
"And … that hasn't changed at all?"  
"It has … finally … but forever's a long time."

"Oh," he says softly, looking down at his feet, and suddenly the self-pitying look on his face makes me angry. I stomp my foot and he looks up at me, surprised.

"Oh hell, Clint – this isn't the time. I'm sorry if I'm more worried about everyone else's future than ours. Just give it time …"

"But what if we don't have time?" he asks. "What if one or both of us dies …"  
"Then we die. That's what happens. You think it'll be any easier because we were married?" He doesn't answer, just looks back down at his feet and won't say anything, so I soften my tone a little. "Clint – I'm not saying no. I'm saying not right now." He nods, still not looking at me, and I go to put an arm around his shoulder.

"Is this your mother's ring?" I ask, not able to resist any longer.

"Nah. Mama pawned her ring to keep us fed when I was a baby. I got it from Blight – he's a widower you know." I can imagine how hard it was for him to part with his wife's ring, and I wonder how big an insult it would be to give it back to him.

At that moment – Duke comes bursting in. I almost ask him where the fire is, but before I can open my mouth he's across the room and lifting me up in the air and twirling me around. "I always wanted a little sister. I told Mama to take him back when she handed me this one," he says as he sets me down and ruffles Clint's hair – much to Clint's annoyance. But at least he's not going to start crying now.

Well I say that – it looks like Duke's going to do that for him. He takes a long look at me like he's never seen me before and his eyes mist up. He pulls me into a very awkward embrace. "I was hoping for this all along … ever since I saw you in the Games …" he says breathlessly. Fantastic – yet another person who's going to be devastated if I break it off. Of course I already knew that – Duke defends Clint like he's a little boy, anything that hurts his brother is either going to devastate him or set him on the war path. I'm not sure which option worries me more.

"Hey Duke … can you leave us alone for a second?" Clint asks quickly, and I'm so glad for the intervention. Duke lets me go and bear hugs his brother for a second.

"Of course. You kids probably want to be left alone. I've been sleeping like a baby." He gives us a wink and heads off to his bedroom, and we're left standing in the entryway, mortified.

"I guess we should go in and sleep," he says awkwardly, his cheeks bright red. "Since we have training tomorrow."  
"Yeah," I say reluctantly, and he opens the door.

His bedroom looks like a train wreck – it always does. I almost immediately find the blanket I sleep on through the bad nights, and I spread it out on the largest clear patch of floor by his bed I can find. He starts taking off his clothes like it's nothing and laughs when I turn my head. "Do you have anything I can borrow?"  
"Don't think any of my pants would fit but the shirts should be fine," he says. I sigh and just lay down in my dress. I do take off the shoes though – my feet ache.

"Kat … get in bed with me," he says gently, and scoots over to make room for me. "I promise I'll keep my hands to myself."  
"It's not your hands I'm worried about."  
"I'll keep everything to myself then, I'll even turn my back," he says, and he sounds sincere. So I sigh and, against my better judgment, climb in next to him. He turns his back like he promised and we lay there, back to back. Part of me wishes it wasn't like this and our arms were around each other, part of me wants to bolt out the door and head on back to my family.

"What do we tell everyone?" he asks. "When they ask when we're getting married."  
"We say sometime after the rebellion. Only we make it sound noble … like we're not letting ourselves have the joy until Panem is free from the Capitol's iron grip," I answer. "And then … if we need more time … we tell part of the truth and say we have a lot of things to work out before we can." I've already worked out what I'll say if I can't go through with it once it's all over – but I'm not about to tell him that right now.

"That works," he says, and his voice sounds like he's already almost asleep. He can sleep just about anywhere if he hasn't just had a nightmare – I think it's because that guard that tormented him so much did his best to keep him up all night and he got used to sleeping through everything. If I ever meet this guard, he's going to be begging for an arrow through the eye by the end. I think of that and I reach back to take his hand – the left hand. His prosthetic fingers are always cold at first, but I know from experience they'll warm up with touch. I expect him to – I want him to – make a joke about how now I'm the one not keeping my hands to myself. But he just takes my hand and doesn't say another word.

We lay there in silence for a long time, and I hear the slow, easy breathing that means he's gone to sleep. I slowly take my hand back and climb out of bed, hoping I won't wake him up. Of course, I don't have any such luck – I'm picking up my shoes (I don't mind walking home barefoot) when he stirs.

"Do you have to go, Kat?" he asks.

"I …"  
"It's okay," he says, and lays back down, but I hear the heartbreak in his voice. "Good night, sleep tight … sweet dreams about whatever it is you want." I wish I could say something sweet that would put his mind at ease, but nothing comes to my mind even though I desperately want it to. So I just say,

"Sweet dreams, Clint." It sounds so lame, even in my own ears, and I head off without looking him in the eye.

I manage to slip into bed without waking Mom or Prim – small mercies.

It's not always drama with us – most of the time it's the opposite. For the first month or so he was lying there in the bed, all starved and beaten and whipped and guilt-ridden and he still made me laugh. After a month, they started to give him some privileges back – privileges here having the meaning of getting the joy of getting yelled at by Lieutenant Hill early in the morning. I trained with him sometimes, and I watched the way he pushed through the pain and the exhaustion and cracked wise the whole time. I would stay with him sometimes after – usually not because of course I had extra training and propos to make and a host of other responsibilities. But I liked to steal time with him.

One night not long after he left the hospital, there was a knock on the door. Prim answered, assuming it was someone coming to get her or Mom, but it was Duke asking for me. I slammed the bedroom door and threw clothes on so fast you'd think I had some fancy magic like Haymitch. He said Clint was crying for me, and I followed him to their quarters. Clint started frantically wiping his tears away as soon as I came in – he didn't want to cry in front of me. I pretended I hadn't seen the tears fall and that I didn't notice his face was red. I sat in the chair by the bed and talked to him for hours. Not about anything in particular – just whatever crossed my mind – until he went to sleep. Duke stayed up the whole time and walked me back to the room once Clint was asleep. On the way he told me Clint still had nightmares about what that guard told him. Samson thinks that sometimes there was still enough tracker jacker venom in his system after he was intentionally hijacked about Tony that the guard's stories sank in more than they would have and he still has nightmares about it, and when he wakes up he's so unsettled he's not sure if he's been dreaming Stephen, Brandy, and I are alive all this time, and he just needs to see me to convince himself. I'm glad he doesn't have to see all of us – he's still not allowed to see Brandy and Stephen still refuses to see him. It's not as though it's just that – he also has what Samson calls post traumatic stress disorder from being tortured, almost getting eaten by mutts, and being forced to be in the Games at all. He even has it from watching his brother's Games, all though that's buried deep. I make it as easy as I can for him. It's hard because sometimes I think about what he did to Phillip – I see it in my own nightmares all the time – but I know he wasn't in control and if anything, it's more blood on the Capitol's hands. Peeta helps – he brings me coffee on the long nights (I don't know how he knows) and he tells me all the time I'm doing the right thing and I'm an amazing friend, and I drink the coffee and never tell him I don't like it. He says it like he believes it, and that and the good times make it bearable.

I remember I told Phillip I wasn't sure if I was in love with Clint or just wanted to be friends – when I first saw him in the infirmary and kissed him, I thought I'd figured it out pretty quick, but then I realized those were never my only two options. I like him, I'm attracted to him – but I'm not desperately, madly in love with him. But that's not good enough – everyone saw us at the Games and the rebels turned us into these tragic star-crossed lovers when they made him into a martyr and now, the people want us to live happily ever after and they want it now. They don't have time for his flashbacks and our nightmares or for me to grow into being able to look at forever or even for the life or death situations around us. I don't think he minds so much – but it makes me want to run away and it sours a lot of the happy moments I have with him.

"Sweet dreams about whatever it is you want." If I knew that, half my problems would be over.

Actually – I do know.

First thing the next morning, I walk into Fury's office. Well I have to get clearance first, but I get in. "I want to be on the front lines," I tell him. He raises both eyebrows – I know it's not the case, but it makes me feel like he still has both eyes and he can see through the eye patch.

"Oh? We thought, what with you being newly engaged …" I hate it when he does this to me. I can tell from his tone he knows exactly how excited I am about the prospect. But I still have to play along and play nicely for him.

"That's exactly it," I say, to a slightly disapproving look. "I mean – I can't stay here with Clint and be happy when the rest of the country is suffering." The ghost of a smile – I'm performing well enough for him at the moment.

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

**Author's Note**

As most of you know, the red string of fate is a concept in Japanese culture (and some other Asian cultures, I believe – don't hold me to do that since I'm not a scholar in this area) that two people meant to be together (what Westerners would call "soulmates") are tied together by an invisible red string that will eventually bring them together. It's a very romantic concept and I love it – but unfortunately sometimes when writers try to pull it off in fiction, it backfires horribly and a romance seems forced and trite, where it might have worked if the writers hadn't been over eager to get the couple together as quickly as possible. So much so there's a whole page for it on tvtropes called "Strangled by the Red String." I really hope I haven't done that in my other fiction … but I realized there's very high potential for this kind of thing to happen with reality shows, and with everyone (including my own muses) talking about how Clint and Kat were meant to be together …

And look at the length of this comment. This is why you shouldn't have esoteric chapter titles.

On another note, the reason I have Katniss being more supportive of Clint than of Peeta in the same situation is 1. She was not the target of the hijacking-triggered-aggression, physical or verbal 2. She actually has Peeta on her side encouraging her.


	4. Scorched (Peeta)

Chapter 4

Scorched

Peeta

I don't even know if she likes coffee – but she doesn't say anything negative when I bring it to her.

Johanna is the one who wakes me – she can hear Clint screaming from her quarters. She never hangs around – Duke is so unpleasant to her ever since she broke it off with him that she, understandably, doesn't want to see him, but she can't leave Clint all alone. Her own nightmares are bad enough. She knows Katniss will go see him, but she also knows Katniss can't do it alone.

I wish I could be cold, I wish I could stand to just roll over and go back to sleep and leave Katniss to it, and wish ill on the victor's brother from District 10. But there are so many nights I wake up in a cold sweat, paralyzed with fear – and I wasn't tortured. I can't abandon him, I can't not want to help him.

One night when Johanna came to get me, I was apparently shaking in my sleep. She woke me from a terrible nightmare – I was back in the Arena, in Tony's pen. The electricity went out, the way the electricity went out in the District 12 fence all the time, and the mutts hopped the fence. Rue was screaming as the mutts – somehow even more monstrous in my dream than in real life – tore her apart. And it wasn't just Rue there – Prim was with us, and I was lying on top of her and Brandy, the tiny girl from 10, and stabbing desperately at mutts, sorry I couldn't get to Rue and Stephen too until I realized my attempt was hideously pointless as the mutts tore me apart. One long set of claws speared my body and Prim's all at once when Johanna shook me. When I woke up so suddenly, I lashed out at the hands on my shoulders, still feeling those claws in my ribcage. "Mellark, calm down," she hissed sharply. "It's just a dream." She was holding her hand over her eye – I clocked her pretty good.

"Johanna … I'm so sorry … is it Clint again?" I asked, trying to breathe slowly and calmly, embarrassed by my outburst.

"Yes but that's not important right now – how often do you have nightmares, Mellark?"  
"Not very often," I lie.

"Right. You need to see the doctor – the shrink."

"What for? He's got people way worse off than me to worry about."

"So? He's got underlings, he'll get to you when he has time or give you to an intern."

"I'll go ask tomorrow." I didn't – and she's been bugging me ever since.

For instance, one week after Finnick's wedding, she's waiting for me when I meet Spruce for coffee and bacon (which probably is not actually bacon but came from a wild dog or coyote but you won't see us complaining, considering it's probably the only meat we'll eat this week) before I go off to my day of trying to be useful. Spruce, of course, doesn't have to try.

"She's just worried about you," Spruce, looking sharp in a white medic's outfit, tells me after she walks away from one more routine of her asking if I'd been, me admitting I hadn't, and her getting upset with me and storming off.

"She shouldn't be … she's got …" I started to say she already has Spruce to worry about, but thought better of it. "So many other things on her mind."  
"But she's right," Spruce says, and looks down at his tray, not meeting my eye. "You've been through a lot."

"I haven't …"  
"So other people have been through more. That doesn't lessen the tragedy of your circumstances," he says. "It's okay to admit you need help, Peeta. You're holding us all together." I shrug. He's just being nice.

"What's your schedule look like today?" I ask, changing the subject. He, Prim, and a handful of other young healers who've found their way to us are working as medics part of the day and going to classes the rest of the day. For most of them, that's just reading, writing, math, and science classes beyond what we have in the Districts for right now – but Spruce is way ahead of them since he got paid in books, because apparently the town doctor was such a quack that even the merchants and Peacekeepers took their chances with him, and they knew books were the way to his heart so they made a point of looking out for books to trade the next time they got sick or injured. He takes classes with aspiring doctors four or five years older than him – the equivalent of university classes. He looks at me sheepishly, and I'm suddenly aware he's been hiding his wrist from me. Why?

"Well today I've got the morning shift and then class …"

"You know what you're doing tomorrow then?" I ask.

"I'm uh … they're sending me out. I've got to go and get briefed today." That makes no sense – I've heard so many times Spruce is "too volatile" to be allowed to do gun training or sleep in the same room as his fiancée (even with sedatives), they almost didn't let him go to Finnick's wedding, and he has to have guards on duty around him twenty-four seven in case he gets overwhelmed. And they're sending him out to the fighting zones?

"When did this come down?" I ask. He looks miserable.

"This morning. They … They're sending me with Katniss."

"Sending you with Katniss? So you're going to District 10?"

"Well yes … and then 7." District 7 isn't a high priority like 5, 6, and the agricultural districts – both sides can do without new tables and ration paper for a little while – so there's not much fighting there, and the locals are pretty friendly to us. I feel better, until his next sentence. "They're … they're taking me to Muleshoe." It's all I can do not to gasp.

"Are you going to be okay?" I ask. He nods, but he doesn't look very certain.

"I'll be fine," he insists.

"How long will you be gone?" I ask.

"Several weeks – we're going to District 10 and 11 first," he says. My heart stops – if they're going to 11, and going to the part of 11 where Thresh is, they might not make it to District 7. At least, Katniss won't – Spruce will probably turn into that thing when the bullets start to fly. But Katniss isn't invincible … she's just a squishy human like the rest of us. And … can Clint make it without her that long? It's the second thought I choose to voice.

"What about Clint? Doesn't he need her here?"  
"I guess Fury thinks … that the districts need her more."

"That's … probably very true. I'll take care of him," I promise, since Spruce cares about Clint quite a lot after what they went through together. "If you promise you'll take care of Katniss for me." He nods with a sad smile – he's the only one besides Dad and Haymitch that knows the whole truth about that situation.

"I will, I promise. The Other Guy will help." That's what he calls … well, not exactly the thing he becomes. The Other Guy was there before, apparently, and Samson's trying to bring Spruce and the other person in his brain together so they can be one person – it's sort of spooky to think about, so I try not to. "Gale's going with us too."

"If he makes a move on her … I don't know, defend her honor I guess," I say, getting distracted halfway through, not entirely sure why I'm more jealous of Gale than Clint. Probably because it's hard to be jealous of someone who wakes up screaming every other night. Spruce laughs.

"Okay, I'll do that."

We part ways and I head through the doors into the kitchens to examine the provisions we've gotten today. I find Greasy Sae already working away on a stew with no meat. "When are those kids supposed to be going hunting again?" she asks as I step over to the crates. "Don't waste your time – no sugar today, very little flour." That's fine – I can make do with the minimal flour.

"Katniss and Gale are both shipping out tomorrow – they're going to be gone for several weeks," I say, trying to pretend I'm not nervous and depressed about the development. She's annoyed at the news.

"They don't let Clint go by himself … don't know what they think's going to happen." That he'll slip back if he's unguarded and lie in wait for Tony, that he'll kill himself, that he'll run off for a life of solitude in the wilds. I choose not to say any of these out loud. "But you know they got a bear last week." I remember – it was surprisingly good, even if it was only a mouthful that I got. With District 10 still under Capitol control, the only meat we get is either from the chickens raised in 13 that the little self-sufficient District can spare and 11 (some workers there were able to raise them despite their otherwise deplorable conditions) and what Katniss and Gale, and now Clint, are able to hunt … and, as you can imagine, when you have as many rebels on base as we do, even a bear doesn't go very far. Greasy Sae complains about the lack of imagination in the provisions they're sent – if she had her way, she'd have all the kids picking dandelions and catching mice for stew. Maybe it's not such a bad idea.

I set to work with the flour we got – Greasy Sae did not misrepresent how little it is – and the ration grain smuggled from 9, which we try to use as sparingly as possible since everyone is having such a hard time as it is. This is how I'll spend most of my day – making bread and making it as good as I can with what we're given because morale can be improved dramatically just by having good food. In the afternoon, I'll stop and go to training – but I know very well they're not planning to send me to the front lines. Dad joins me before too long – we don't talk as we just pound out dough. We're almost out of yeast so we decide to make flat bread. I remember Dr. Samson likes the flat bread, and I smile to think he'll like it. He deserves all the happiness I can give him for everything he's done for Spruce and Clint.

Clint ...

He needs Katniss. He doesn't need me, or Johanna, or anyone else – he needs her. But Fury says the districts need her more …

Well, so far, she's been great in 10 – they love her there. She visits people in hospitals and helps hand out the provisions they've managed to get from 11, and they reach out to her like she's the best thing ever. I think it's because of Clint – they're going to be over the moon when they see the band on her finger.

I try not to think about that, and instead lament the state of the team. I thought the whole point was supposed to be District unity or something – how much good does that do when they're never in the same room, except when they're taking blatantly staged photographs and watching propos together?

Of course, District unity is kind of a joke anyway. Fulvia Cardew – one of the Capitol traitors – had this really brilliant idea to do bits on the tributes who've been lost over the years. They target the districts the kids were from – I didn't see anything wrong with that until Tony and Katniss pointed it out on one of the few times all the Avengers were together. We had just seen the spot for Amp – mostly Tony talking about him, but also his parents, and instead of just footage from the Games, there was footage Tony's parents had taken of the two of them playing together when they were little, so you could actually hear Amp's voice outside of the context of the Games and see his real personality. (He really was like Spruce – I see why Tony likes Spruce so much.) That's extremely rare, obviously – if you can't afford food you're not exactly looking to buy a video camera. It ended the way it had to – with an arrow in the eye. They don't show Duke trying to arrange his corpse, and I wish they did, just to reinforce who the enemy really is – Duke was just trying to get home to keep his brother alive, and it almost destroyed him. I looked over at Tony and saw he was crying a little bit, but he ducked his head down so you couldn't see it. Because it's not like any of us would understand him crying over his best friend after seeing him die for … how many times has Tony been forced to watch this? I vowed to not go so hard on him about the drinking for a whole day. Fulvia, however, didn't mind showing her tears – she wiped one away dramatically.

"So we'll be showing this in District 3 tonight …"

"Why only show Amp in 3?" Tony asked in anger.

"Yeah – why shouldn't you broadcast this nationwide?" Katniss piped up. "Show that in the Capitol – rub it in their faces they probably cheered when he died, force them to look at him as a person …" And they were right. Absolutely right.

"Well – we will eventually," Fulvia cut them off, to the annoyance of both. I was just glad they finally agreed on something. "But let's build some momentum first. Also for District 3 – we have this piece dedicated to little Rei Hitachi …" Howard Stark immediately stood up to leave the room, and I wondered what was wrong, and looked to Tony. He looked just as confused as me until we saw a very young Howard – Tony resembles him a lot – taking a tiny girl's hand on District 3's reaping platform. She was his district partner the year he won. Katniss grabbed my arm – I know she was immediately wondering if Howard was the one who killed her. The propo framed it around Rei and how very, very wrong it was that she was there – she was the gentle sort who wouldn't hurt a flea. She was lovely, a little flower in a field of blood and horror. They made sure to emphasize she was her mother's only child, and the mother killed herself a few years later. An adult Howard's voice described how her mother asked him to kill her after the Reaping, just to make sure it was quick and painless, rather than see her be tortured to death. He talked about how he thought about throwing them both off the training center roof as mercy for her and as a final act of defiance – but the force field on the roof was in place even then. I looked over at Tony and all the color was out of his face. The Arena was an ocean that year – meant obviously for District 4, but Howard and Rei bunkered down on the lone island, and Howard was actually able to strip wiring from cameras that were hidden in trees and caves to build defenses (I'm sure they put things in place to prevent that from happening again, just like they did with the force fields after Haymitch's victory). Despite that, an incredibly tall girl who was bigger than me from District 1 slipped past the defenses and ended up driving them into the water. The tributes had life vests to keep them afloat but Rei hadn't had time to grab hers, so she had to hold on to Howard to stay afloat. The girl swam after them – all Careers must train for swimming – and I'm not sure what happened since that, of course, isn't as important as what happened to Rei, but it was down to those two – both tributes from 3. He tried to give her his life jacket but she couldn't even stay afloat long enough for him to get if off – she was so starved, before and during the Games, that there wasn't much fat to keep her afloat. Those of us too young to remember these Games thought that was it – that he must have pried her fingers from his shoulders and let her drown or snapped her neck or stabbed her with the fishing knife. Instead, he waited until she went to sleep, drifting there in the ocean, and when he was sure she could keep her grip even in sleep, he slit his wrists, intending to let her win. I looked up at Tony again – he was in tears. He'd obviously never seen this, or even known it. It's not like they show it on highlights – I'm pretty sure what Howard did was treason or something, and I'm surprised they didn't arrange a tragic "accident" for him as soon as his Victory Tour was done. But he didn't cut deep enough, and the Gamemakers, probably completely panicked at the prospect of such a blatant martyr, sent a storm. The propo focused on Rei's face – her look of terror and confusion both about the storm and why her protector's arms were slick with blood – as Howard lost his grip on her and she slipped underneath the waves despite a desperate struggle, and I almost couldn't stand to watch it knowing that she drowned before he bled out, making him the victor, and I was watching the last moments of her life before she slipped out of view of the cameras. I'm sure the footage was cut differently when it was aired back in that year, but the footage as it appears in the propo is this image of Howard floating, gray-faced from blood loss and head barely above the water, surrounded by his own blood with this hollow look in his eyes because he knows he failed to save her. Tony says he was drunk most of his childhood – now we all know why. I could see Tony shaking from across the table.

"Can you tell me why that wouldn't move someone in 10 or 6 as much as in 3?" Thresh asks skeptically, breaking the silence that's fallen over us.

"Not to mention shame everyone else for their comparative lack of balls," Haymitch adds – he looks solemn but not as shell-shocked as all the younger viewers. He watched these Games live ten years before he won himself – it's probably the first year he really remembers.

"Well, eventually …" Fulvia says, and I wonder if "eventually" means "never." The sad part is, I know that despite Thresh's question, it will be different in different districts – they'll feel it the most in 3. Not just that they lost this kind little girl, but that their other tribute, who's now a public figure, tried, oh so very hard, to defy the Capitol and keep that little bit of humanity, only to be forcefully denied. It would move anyone with a soul but it'll bring a special hurt to the people of District 3 since they know at least one of the people involved. But maybe that should be the point – to make us know their hurt.

That was a hard, hard day – they had at least two "We Remember" sketches targeted at every District except 1 and 2. They're still so firmly rooted in their Career system and loyalty to the Capitol – all though 1 is starting to crumble. The spots were draining to watch – the whole time, I felt Coin's cold gray eyes on me. I know she was watching all of us for our reaction – wanting to know which of us, if any, are going to break.

We saw footage of ourselves too. For the others, I imagine that's impressive. For me it's just kind of … dull. The most impressive thing I do is run around like a mother hen looking after the others or bake cakes to cheer everyone up on the rare occasion we get sugar. I was assured this is important – I remain unconvinced even now. At least they didn't try to make baking bread look exciting or dramatic.

I'm lost in thought, thinking about Katniss going away and remembering all those propos, and I burn my hand on the oven. Of course – this day gets better and better.

**Author's Note**

I originally wrote part of a full-length story about the Games Howard won and then realized there was very little point in terms of a crossover, so I'll just summarize the ideas as needed. It was not just for his own sake that Howard tried to let Rei win – he had lied during the Games to convince a potential ally that he was genuinely trying to protect Rei (so she would trust him more), telling her he was in love with Rei's very young mother. Given that, killing her would have made him look so despicable he'd be a pariah at home and across Panem, and the Gamemakers had stupidly let them get down to just the two of them and refused to use a storm or anything else to kill them so they were slowly going to die of the elements. (Rei probably would have gone first, but it's not like that was guaranteed, and even had she died first would have required both of them suffer for days on end.) So that wasn't an entirely selfless act – he did care about trying to save her, but that wasn't the only motive. The look of hollowness on his face was also fear for himself – he knew there was a very strong chance he was about to get killed. It's much more complicated, but the rebels can shave it down for propaganda purposes, just like the Capitol did – they spun it as a love story (oh he's not a traitor, he was just too in love with her to mom to think straight), sort of like what happened with Katniss and Peeta in canon.


	5. Departures (Prim)

Chapter 5

Departures

Prim

**Author's Note I: **I briefly had the wrong chapter (a chapter from a different story called Canid which is an AU crossover with Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Norse mythology) for chapter 3, I caught it rather quickly but it was up for a little while – sorry to anyone who was confused.

* * *

I say goodbye way too often these days.

Stephen leaves to return to District 5 just two days after the wedding – he's leaving really early in the morning so I have to sneak out and see him off without waking Mom and Katniss. They both have a lot to worry about as it is – I thought it was better to let them rest. That's just as well – it's always awkward when we're all together, because Katniss can't stop teasing me about how he's my boyfriend (he's not!) and Mom gets suspicious of us because I'm too young to have a boyfriend (good thing he's not my boyfriend then), and poor Stephen is so shy anyway he just blushes and acts awkward. When we say goodbye alone, we can talk more openly, and no one gets onto us for holding hands.

His film crew tapes us saying goodbye – they always do, and I must be in a lot of footage between these and my farewells to Katniss. It's awkward because they make us get all pretty first – a young stylist from the Capitol redoes my braid and brushes a thin coat of skin-colored powder over my face, and highlights my eyes with just a touch of eye liner, then puts a clear layer of lip gloss on my lips. Stephen gets almost as much as me – they don't gloss his lips, thankfully. At least it's a "natural" look for both of us – Tony's supposedly is too but they put (I think) too much eyeliner on him. Stephen's uniform by now is all patched up and cleaned – any damage it takes is repaired as soon as he gets back to base, even though you'd think that it would make a better impression to just show it getting ragged and worn over time, like the other soldiers' uniforms do. Once we're camera-ready, we step onto the flight deck and make our way to his craft. I stand in front of him as he stands on the ramp into the hovercraft, one hand in each of his, heart racing as I think about what he'll be facing. "Be careful and hurry back," I tell him breathlessly.

"I'll do my best," he says with a little smile.

"Okay Rogers, let's go," his pilot says grumpily. No one blames him for being grumpy – it's early and flying is always dangerous since we don't know how many Capitol hovercraft could be in the air at any given moment. And he probably sees all this as pointless and silly.

"Yes sir," Stephen tells the pilot, then turns back to me. "Take care of yourself, Prim." Maybe he's not my boyfriend, but I kind of wish he'd kiss me goodbye. As though she read my mind, one of the girls in the camera-encrusted suits says,

"You know you want to kiss her, Stephen," in barely a whisper. Don't know why she bothers – they'll just cut out her voice in editing anyway. He turns red, but leans down – he's so tall now – and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I'm only a little disappointed it wasn't the lips. It's not like he's my boyfriend after all. "Take care of yourself," he says again, then turns to head out. I stand there awkwardly – I usually stay until the craft leaves, but today is the first time I feel self-conscious about it. Do I look like a lovestruck fool? Should I chase him onboard and get my kiss? Will Mom kill me if I do?

I don't have to wonder about it long – everyone else has started boarding but Stephen runs past them to come back to me for a second. He takes me by the shoulders and leans down again, and his lips meet mine.

It's beautiful and sweet, like fireworks and wild flowers and honey all at once. Not steamy, like Katniss and Clint or the other teenagers I've seen – just sweet and short and perfect. I'm sad it's over when he pulls back. His cheeks are as red as fresh apples but he's got this big goofy grin on his face. I know I do too. "I've uh … I've got to go now," he stammers awkwardly.

"Yeah," I agree, not knowing what else to say. He starts to leave but I throw my arms around him one more time, one last hug before he goes.

"Rogers!" the pilot snaps, and we both jump. He kisses me on the cheek again and then hurries inside the craft that's taking him away from me into danger, and I stand back, all the happiness brought by the kiss dashed in an instant at the thought that he could die, that I might never see him again.

I watch until the hovercraft is a little dot in the sky and then disappears completely, and despite the worry that's weighing down my chest like a brick, my lips start to tingle as I remember the feel, the taste of his kiss, and a little warmth starts to make a dent in the heaviness in my chest.

Maybe he is sort of my boyfriend.

Katniss's orders come down suddenly – less than a day's notice that she's going to the field … including to District 7 with Spruce. "Why take him?" I ask, alarmed, when she tells me over supper. I know Spruce from medic training – he's way ahead of me in classes but we work together at the infirmary.

"We're going to Muleshoe," she says darkly.

"Why? What's left for him to find?" I ask. I don't think it will do him any good – just a few more nightmares his medication will have to block.

"They want … footage. Reaction footage. Especially to … to the house he grew up in." I think it's sick – like they want him to show the appropriate amount of grief before they can counteract the slander from the Capitol. Anyone who believes he'd hurt his father is an idiot anyway. At least, that he'd hurt his father when he wasn't … that monster. I worry about Katniss being in that situation with him – will he have an incident? Will he know not to hurt her? I tell myself it will be okay – that even if he does take that form, he won't hurt her. He didn't hurt us.

"So what's before District 7?" I ask, thinking that must be more than enough for any one trip.  
"Well …" she starts, and she hesitates and looks to Mom. I know it's bad. "We'll stop in 10 and 11 on the way there. We'll be gone for at least three weeks." I know from the way she hesitated they won't be in deep 11 where it's relatively safe – they're going to be on the front lines, where Thresh is organizing the defenders. I hope no one from our side gets in Spruce's way if he has an incident. I hope Mom didn't catch the hesitation – she'll worry all three weeks if she suspects the danger Katniss will be in.

The next day comes too quickly – like Stephen five days ago now, she leaves early in the morning. Only this time, my mother, Gale's mother, Clint and his brother, Peeta, and Betty are all standing with me. This time it's raining a little bit – much to the frustration of the make-up artists who look us over. Katniss's stylist goes with her – Katniss doesn't like her as much as Cinna, but she says she's pretty tolerable compared to most people from the Capitol. The stylist's boyfriend's here too, to see her off – he looks at us shyly and doesn't say much. I don't like that Gale's going – I've always liked Gale, and I don't know exactly what's going on, but I know Katniss was upset when she came back from hunting with him after the first time they went hunting with Clint, and ever since then she hasn't wanted to be around him, and I worry about them both if they're not getting along.

We're standing there having make-up applied when Johanna rushes up. "I'm going with you," she says breathlessly, holding out her wrist, which proves she has the orders. She must have just gotten approval from Fury – I notice she didn't ask anyone who was going for their thoughts.

"Johanna – you don't have to …" Spruce starts quickly. They tend to put too much eyeliner on him as well – they seem to think that just because his eyes are behind glasses, we can't see them, and, of course, they want those eyes visible. They're beautiful – intense and dark and expressive.  
"I know I don't have to, lughead … I just want to," she says sharply. Well, sharply compared to other people – she just sounds like how Johanna sounds all the time. "They're my people too." The prep team moves over to her and make her up quickly – even though I think Johanna's pretty enough she doesn't really need it. I look over to Katniss – her lips are thin and she refuses to look. I'm not sure what prompts this, until I see how Duke reacts to her being there. He's glaring daggers at Johanna – which the slight dark-headed woman takes in great stride. She steps next to Spruce and puts her arm around him, and if this bothers Betty she doesn't show it. Of course she doesn't seem to be the jealous type and we all know how Duke acts around Johanna, so we generally forgive whatever she does to try to avoid it.

Clint's already got his arms around Katniss, holding on to her as tight as Rei held on to Tony's dad in the gut wrenching propo I watched with Stephen, and they almost have to pry him off to get the make-up on them both. Instead, Katniss convinces him to turn so he's only got one arm around her and they're both facing out so the stylists can get to them. I glance over at the others to see their reaction – most of them are too busy getting their own make-up on to notice, but Hazelle, Peeta, and Katniss' new stylist look like it's breaking their hearts. The propos won't show this – they won't show the desperation, the hurt that she's leaving him. They might get a good shot of a kiss and play that as this valiant parting of the lovers, to be reunited in better times – I get a little sick thinking that if she dies, they'll probably play his goodbye uncut, to play up the tragedy. I wonder what their excuse will be for why he doesn't go – he looks healthy enough now, and Spruce is going. The fact he was hijacked is, of course, not a matter for discussion off base – I wonder if we'll ever be able to talk openly about Phillip and what happened to him after this is all over. Clint finally steps away when it's time for the rest of us to say goodbye and the cameras come on.

"Promise you'll be careful and hurry back," I tell Katniss as we embrace, the same thing I told Stephen – only with even more worry in it.

"I will, little duck," she tells me, and I self-consciously tuck in my shirt. I can't believe the stylists didn't catch that – or didn't tell me if they did notice. Mom doesn't say anything, just hugs her tight and tries not to cry. Hazelle hugs her as well before going on to give Gale a hug that almost strangles him, Peeta hugs her for a little too long, and then Duke gives her a big bear hug and says,

"You better come back in one piece so I can get my little sister." And then … Clint. He plays the part of the recovering headstrong archer pretty well as he whispers something in her ear and kisses her goodbye. Those same deep kisses they always share – only this one has desperation in it I can practically taste. A tear rolls down her cheek and I wonder what he said. I can't stand it – I look up to see Betty resting against Spruce with her head on his chest and his arms are around her. It's not as passionate, but it's sweet. The worry's much more open for her – I don't think she can hide things as well as my sister and her fiancé can. I still feel bad there's no one to say goodbye to Johanna – I feel so bad about that I give her a hug. It actually makes her smile a little bit, even though it takes her by surprise.

And then, all too soon, it's time for them to go. Their camera crew – which includes a set of identical twins, one of whom is an Avox – step into the craft, and everyone stands back. I expect Clint's façade to crumble – I expect him to fall to his knees, go into hysterics, or something …

Instead he takes a deep breath and only cries a little. I feel the tears start to fall from my eyes too and I bury my face in his chest, putting my arms around him and squeezing so tight I'm not sure if he can breathe. His arms close around me, strong and steady. We hear it take off, and we start counting the days right at that moment.

* * *

**Author's Note II**

The first two stories were published pretty much all at once - there will be a bigger gap on this one. I'm not quite finished and I'm still studying for first year exams / trying to find a lab so I can stay and actually continue being a grad student, so obviously that's the priority. I'm almost done with this story, enough that I am fully confident I can finish it by the end of summer or sooner (unless I have to move back home, which unfortunately is looking increasingly likely, in which case it may be finished some time in autumn). But it's already been a huge wait for you guys and I wanted to make sure I got at least a few chapters out to help hold you over. When I get more time I'll be back with the story of what the individual Avengers are doing over the next few weeks. Even though they're happening simultaneously, I am doing separate chapters for each character because it would be a fifty page chapter if I switched viewpoints in the same chapter.


	6. Out of My Head (Clint)

Chapter 6

Out of My Head

Clint

I wish they'd let me go back out into the woods. District 10 is mostly flatlands, so I'm not used to the trees, but at least I can breathe out there.

In here, sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating. I remember watching footage from the year Finnick became victor, and I remember the way he fed himself in the Arena was he pulled some fish from streams, and even though I hunted with Duke all the time and I was watching kids kill each other, I got upset when I saw the fish flopping around in Finnick's nets, suffocating slowly while they wriggled desperately, trying to get back to the water. When I stand on the deck and look down at the terrain below us and think about begging to be allowed to run free, I feel like those fish.

Maybe I only hate it so much because I tasted a little freedom. I was out in the woods with Gale and Kat, and I spent the first ten minutes not even trying to hunt – just feeling ground beneath my feet and drinking in the smell of trees and grass and everything green and beautiful. When we came to a little clearing, I set down the bow and arrows they gave me to hunt with (Kat still has my old bow), took a long run, and managed to do a cartwheel – the first one I'd done in years. Kat laughed. "What are you doing?" she asked, but she was smiling real bright.

"Just showing off for you," I answered. "Can you do that?"

"No – I don't think so," she answered, still smiling.

"I'll show you – it's easy once you just …"  
"We're here to hunt," Gale said sharply. He hadn't said a word the whole time we'd been outside – I thought that was just his personality, but the smile slid off Kat's face so fast and her eyebrows furrowed and I knew it wasn't. I thought, _Of course – there's a war going on and we're here to train and help with the ration situation, not act like total goofballs._

"Right, sorry …" I said quickly, and stepped past them to pick up my weapons. As I did, I leaned over to kiss Kat on the cheek, to apologize for embarrassing her in front of her hunting friend – and also to see if what I was already afraid of was the real reason for his anger. She let me kiss her but she kind of pulled away – I could feel the tension in her shoulders and her eyes darted to Gale. I don't even think she knew until that day he had feelings for her – but of course the whole time I'd been running through the woods scaring off game and enjoying my freedom, she'd been noticing his attitude. I didn't kiss her or try to hold hands or anything for the whole rest of the trip.

One good thing – I found out Beatee and Howard didn't fail on my new fingers. Cold and metal, and I don't know if I'll ever like them, but they get the job done – I don't have any trouble with shooting. I shot a bird through the eye from five hundred feet away on my first try – I took a very petty pleasure in outdoing Gale on that point. It might be the only thing I ever do better than him.

I believed Kat when she told me Gale wasn't why she didn't want to marry me, but I know that, if we get through this thing and she still doesn't want to marry me, she'll let me go … and when she does Gale will be there waiting.

I tell myself it'll be okay … I'll find some girl. Some girl will have me, surely … it's not like the girls at home know I killed the man who rescued me in a stupid frenzy. Kat's too good for me anyway. As she was leaving, I told her I was sorry for proposing, that I'll understand when all this is over if she walks away as soon as the cameras are off us …

There's the slam of a door and I realize I left it unlocked. "Get your boots on, we're going hunting!" Peeta's voice breaks into my pity party. I sit up on my bed, surprised, and take in the sight of him, and have to fight not to laugh. He's got this … get-up. It's denim pants and high boots up to his hips and a heavy jacket printed with a pattern like muted autumn leaves and this … hat. Oh, the hat. Floppy and fur-lined and … I don't even know.

"Um … hi," I say.

"Come on! I cleared it with the higher-ups – they want the meat as bad as everyone else. They said you still can't go alone, but I can go with you."  
"Can you hunt?"

"No but I don't have to. I just have to watch you."

"I see," I say, and I'm very proud of myself for still not laughing. Then what he's saying sinks in – I get to go outside. "Then let's go!"

Half an hour later, we're in the woods. We'll never catch anything in a million years – Peeta's hilariously loud as he walks, but I don't have the heart to get onto him for it. The only animals brave enough to stay put are mockingjays – they must be everywhere now, considering how deep we are in the wilds. I see them flying around from tree to tree, and I smile and think of Kat's costume and code name. It's too bad I'm useless – we'd both have the bird theme. On a whim, I sing a few notes to them. They seem to like my song – they take a moment to consider it, then repeat the notes back to me. It's been so long since I've played with mockingjays – it's not like I was in a mood for it in the Arena or the last time I was in the woods with Kat and Gale – so I take full advantage of having attentive mockingjays who've probably never seen a person before. I start to sing them an old folk song, and when I pause, they wait a little bit to see if there's more, and then start to sing the notes back to me. "Do you want to try?" I ask, looking up at Peeta. To my surprise, he's almost in tears.

"No I uh … I can't sing," Peeta says, and looks away because he thinks I haven't seen his expression yet. "You've … you've never heard Katniss sing, have you?"  
"No," I say, and I feel this stupid, irrational pang of jealousy. How is it I love her so much and I didn't even know she sings?  
"She … doesn't like to. But her voice is so pretty the birds stop singing to listen." It sounds like hyperbole, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was true. The pang hits again – she shared this with Peeta, but not me. They may just be friends, but there's still a history there I can never share. I wonder if she'll ever sing for me.

Realizing we've crashed into terribly awkward territory, Peeta desperately searches for something to change the subject. "So … I know they used you in some propos …"  
"For District 2. They figured it was worth a shot since I am apparently one of the few people ever to have a handful of good experiences with Peacekeepers, and I spared Drusa."

"Which … I have to ask why. Is it because you knew what … what was going to happen?" He carefully avoids mentioning Anthony, but I know. It only makes my skin crawl a little.  
"Yeah … when Anthony had told me to take care of you and Spruce, I thought he thought the Capitol would go easy on us … but when he was trying to get us all in one place I knew he meant something else when he said there were different plans for us. And I didn't want to kill anyone unless I had to." I pause, looking around in vain. The animals are pretty easy pickings in some parts of the wild – no humans for them to learn to fear. Maybe one of them won't mind Peeta's stomping. "When I was little, I remember I always hated the Careers … until Duke won. I couldn't exactly hate them for being willing to kill when my brother had the highest body count of any single tribute ever, and I didn't hate him for it." Peeta nods sympathetically and puts a hand on my arm. I'm glad for it. "I remember Tack telling me about the training their kids go through, especially in 2, and I could never see them as anything but monstrous little kids after that. Drusa was just screaming at me to kill her, and all I saw was a little girl no one ever hugged, that got taught hitting and outright torture instead of sharing and playing nicely, who thought death was better than living with shame. If I had wanted to kill her at all before, I couldn't after that. Hell, I worried about killing Cato with that march back down to …" Anthony's trap. The images flash by all at once and my heart starts to race and my palms sweat. The fence, Brandy trapped inside, yelling to me that he hurt her, electricity coursing through my body, Cato fried on the fence, Stephen slapped in the face which I only saw on tape … I know he did it to rescue us but …

I struggle, as usual, to reconcile my dual images of Anthony Stark. The young rebel who helped save most of us, and the rapist who took Brandy's innocence in front of everyone watching at home, who bruised Kat's face in an incident I still don't know about. It upsets me so much, trying to figure out which, if either, is real, or if they both are, that I have to kneel down and think and stop my head spinning. "Oh … oh I'm so sorry, that was stupid, really stupid … I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry," Peeta says quickly, and I hear the guilt in his voice. Dr. Samson has a series of questions he asks when I start getting confused, and I try to remember them to myself now. I'm surprised he didn't give them to Peeta before the trip … of course he probably thought we wouldn't talk or just talk about cakes or something. Or maybe he wants me to try to remember on my own. I force myself to breathe in and out real slow, and when I calm down enough I can practically hear Samson's voice.

"_What did Brandy say to you when you were trying to figure out the fence?"_

I could swear she just said he hurt her bad, but on the tape I've seen she just says he pulled her hair. I know she's got a condition that makes her act like someone way younger, but even if she didn't know about the facts of life, as it were, surely she'd be concerned about him doing things to her she didn't understand, probably more exactly because she didn't understand …

"_Why would Anthony do something like that knowing there were cameras everywhere?"_

I don't know … I don't know … I don't know …

"Clint, are you okay?" Peeta asks as he sits by me, and I know he's upset that he upset me, so I try to be as nice as I can but I still end up snapping.

"Hush, give me a second."

"_What about the other tributes who were distasteful to the Capitol? What usually happened to them?"  
_Titus the cannibal, killed by an avalanche … Dahlia, who took ears as trophies, killed by a suspiciously well-timed lightning strike … two different rapists I can think of, Agrippa and the inappropriately named Sweet, killed by horrible rat things that seemed to mainly target him and a fire forcing him into an ambush by the Careers, respectively. All of those happened pretty quickly – Agrippa after only one incident (but what an incident it was).

It's not like the Gamemakers care about collateral damage – it would have been easy enough to flood Tony's cave or smoke him out with fire right as someone more powerful was passing by and kill him and Brandy at once … instead they gave him peace to build his thing …

"_This is probably the most important one – does anything strike as unusual about the footage you were shown of Tony hurting Brandy?"_

Yes. It's vivid and clear as day … but something about the footage is choppy and weird and … shiny …

And then I see it all again, me screaming like a madman and grabbing that gun, determined to kill Anthony for what I thought he did to Brandy and what I thought he tried to do to Kat … Coulson shoving him out of the way, eyes going glassy as the bullet _I _fired went through his throat just under the chin …

"I … Anthony didn't do anything to Brandy …" I say, and I almost choke on the words. Peeta looks pleasantly surprised – he breaks out in a big grin and his eyes light up.

"That's really good that you realize that, Clint …"

"I killed a good man for nothing," I say, getting to the point. "I was trying to kill someone who didn't even do anything and someone who rescued me, who went above and beyond the call of duty to help me, got in my way …" I start to sob uncontrollably, like I haven't done in a long time. "I wish he had just let me die … he'd still be here and I wouldn't be like this …"

"No don't … don't say that, it wasn't your fault … the thing is …"  
"Oh? You're going to tell me how it is?" I snap, and I stand up. "Do you know how I feel? Do you know what it's like to have someone get in your brain and make you a monster?"  
"No, I don't," Peeta says quickly. He takes a breath, and a moment to think about what he's going to say. "But I knew Phillip. Only for a couple of months, but that was enough to know that even if I could go back in time and warn him, he'd do it all over again. Only he'd try harder to keep Tony out of your room, or warn the doctors you were hijacked for sure. But if Tony still didn't listen he'd walk back in, because that's who he was. He would have died before he left you in that city, or left you to die of shock somewhere on the train. I don't know how long he had after, but that last moment wasn't filled with regret, at least not about saving you." Samson always tells me it's not my fault … it's different hearing from someone who knew Phillip, even if it wasn't for very long. Maybe it'll make a dent in the nightmares.

"Okay," I say after a while, just because I think I need to say something. I wipe my tears on my sleeve and stand up. "Let's uh … let's see if I can get something before we go back … just so they know we actually did something instead of just running around."

"Okay, yeah, that's a good idea, Clint," Peeta says sincerely, and jumps to his feet.

A few hours later, Peeta calls for a little hovercraft to take us back to the ship – I got a couple of rabbits and a squirrel. It's not much, but it will be protein for the thinnest inhabitants of what used to be District 12. "Are you talking to Samson today?"  
"I talk to him every day," I say.

"Is it okay if I stay with you?"  
"Sure. I don't mind." Everyone already knows my problems, so why not?

We drop off the rabbits and squirrel in the kitchen. Greasy Sae, the former inhabitant of District 12 and genius with unusual food sources that Kat introduced me too, is thrilled with the catch. "I thought they wouldn't let you go back out, young fella," she says with a smile.

"Not by myself … Peeta helped me," I answer.

"Thank you for that, Peeta – I'm glad someone has some sense around here."

"Do any of the Capitol traitors ever get mad when they realize what the meat actually is?" I ask, suddenly realizing most of the Capitol people I've known would balk at eating squirrel or feral dogs.

"I haven't found out yet – most of the meat is prioritized to the thin ones, and that's no one from the Capitol," she answers with a mischievous grin. "But if they do, we'll just enjoy the show."

"Hey, Peeta – do you know what happened to Marcellus Farber?" Peeta tenses up, and I know it's bad, and I just say, "Oh," and don't ask any more, but I can't be silent. "He … he kept Duke from killing himself, right after the Games. He stayed with us for a month after Duke came back … he helped us so much. I … was hoping he got out okay, or else that they were leaving him alone." Peeta nods. "I … I just want all this to be over."

"I know. Come on – let's go see your doctors."

My session today starts out typically enough – after asking if I'm really okay having Peeta there, Dr. Samson asks me how I'm doing, and I tell him honestly. Better than you might think, but worried about Kat.

Then something very unexpected happens. First, General Fury steps in. I stand up quickly and shake his hand, trying to look as much like an actual soldier as I can, and I get really nervous. "Would you feel better if I asked the general to wait outside?" Dr. Samson asks. It's funny, to think of the mild-mannered little man asking the general to do anything.

"No, I'm fine," I lie. Samson looks at me skeptically, but he goes on with his next question. "Would you like to see Brandy, Clint?"

"Yeah, of course," I say, as every nerve stings with an unidentifiable emotion. I think of what Lester said about her, and how on some deep, emotional level, I've always worried it might be true, even though I know intellectually it can't be. They've shown me footage of her, acting cute and unaffected by everything, and all that time I thought Anthony did something horrible to her and I was just glad she had recovered from it. Now I know better. Dr. Samson turns to the door. "Dr. Pym – you can bring Brandy in now," he calls through the door.

As soon as the door opens, Brandy runs to me and jumps in my lap. "Clint!" she cheers for me, and I hug her tight, trying very hard not to cry in front of the general. But it's such a joy, seeing her in person. If I can just see Stephen in person, up close, it will be amazing.

"You're okay!" I say before I can stop myself.

"Of course I'm okay, why wouldn't I be okay?" she asks.

"Because … there was a guard in the Capitol who told me bad things happened to you." Her eyes go to my fingers, to the discomfort of everyone.

"Is that the sh …" she catches Pym's eye and corrects herself. "The poophead who cut off your fingers?" she asks, and everyone goes silent.

"I … they told you about that?"  
"Not on purpose … I'm good at listening to grown-ups talk."

"Yeah. Yeah it was the same guy," I say, and the fact I manage to keep my cool after Lester was mentioned is huge progress for me.

"He's a meanie. I hope Katniss kills him for you." I have no idea what to say to that. "But nothing bad happened to me. Is that guard the one who made you think Tony made me do bad things with him?" I look around to the other adults – they look as surprised as me, so I'm guessing no one was supposed to tell her any of this. "Tony pulled my hair and he slapped me but he had to be a jerk so the Gamemakers wouldn't get suspicious before Phillip and the other rebels got there to get us out."

"I know that now, Brandy … they had video they edited so it looked like he … so it looked like he …" If he didn't do anything, should I even mention it to her? I don't know what luck anyone's had with explaining that aspect of life to her.  
"Tried to make babies grow in me?" Yeah, let's go with that. "Tony always worries people will think that when I sleep with him but …" The certainty I had managed to grasp today slips away in an instant.

"You … you sleep with him?" I ask, and I hate everyone on this ship for letting this happen.

"Only sometimes … he turns his back so it doesn't look like …"

"But you … You sleep in his bed? Why?"  
"We slept together in the Arena, he didn't want me to but I slept by him because it was cold and I was lonely …"

"She did the same with you on the train, Clint," Dr. Samson reminds me gently. I take a deep breath. He's right – there's nothing wrong with it, I let her sleep with me too. That's probably what gave the Capitol the idea for how to poison me against him – because they're so dirty-minded they think that …

"He makes me feel safe, because he saved us." That's true – that's understandable. She folds her hands in her lap, and looks down, ashamed, and the sense of dread comes back. Is she being coached to lie to me?! "I … I like to pretend he's my husband …" she says sheepishly, and starts to cry.

"What do you mean, Brandy?" I ask, and I come out of my seat to kneel in front of her.

"I … Because I'll never have a husband, so I pretend that Tony is …"  
"Why? Why won't you ever have a husband?" The only thing I can think is that she thinks she's damaged goods, that no one will want her because she's not a virgin, which can only be because of Anthony. She doesn't even know what to call it …

"Because I'm too stupid … my own daddy said that I was too stupid to have a husband … so Tony's close enough …"

"You … Did you know about this?!" I ask, looking up at Pym, and he turns red and he looks like a deer in the headlights.

"I didn't know she thought that …"

"But you knew she was sleeping in his bed? What kind of idiot are you? How could you let this happen?" I ask, my voice rising, and I'm on my feet.

"Clint … Clint …" Dr. Samson says, putting a hand on my shoulder.  
"Did you know?!" I demand.

"I did not," he says genuinely, and I breathe a little easier. He sighs wearily. "I wish that I had …"  
"So now you know! It's not just me! He's … he takes advantage of her because …"  
"No he doesn't! I love him!" Brandy shrieks. "I love him more than anything, don't say bad things about him …"

"Because she's little and she doesn't know …"  
"He doesn't! I wish he would!" Brandy shrieks.

"Don't say that, Brandy …" Pym cuts in. "You don't know what you're sa …"  
"Yes I do. You think I don't know. But I want him … and he thinks I'm just a stupid little girl." He's got her so messed up in the head … I was right all along … I wish Phillip had known, he wouldn't have let any of this happen … Tony would have been in the brig instead of there in my room … Why am I such an idiot I fired too late and missed blowing his brains out?

"Brandy, I think I need to talk to you and Dr. Pym later – you two should go …"  
"He didn't do anything with me, Clint … even though I wanted him to …" Maybe he didn't … maybe he was just grooming her for it, making her all messed up and crazy about him. But how would the Capitol know that? They wouldn't, would they? If I hadn't seen that footage, would I think anything of a lonely little girl sleeping next to a boy who made her feel safe? Even if she happened to have a crush on him? But …. But … That footage … That … He kept her … He …

I'm on my knees on the floor, holding my head, trying to think of the questions. "As you can see General … I think we have some work to do," Dr. Samson says over my head, then kneels by me to put a hand on my back.

"Clint – do you remember the questions?" Yes … something about … what she said to me when I saw her for the first time … he knew there were cameras …

"Did … did you watch the Games here?"  
"Yes, Clint, we did." He would tell me if Tony had hurt her … wouldn't he?

"Damn it, Clint, you knew better just a few hours ago," Peeta says sharply as he kneels by me. "I don't know what you did – but you talked yourself through it." I know I did, and I try to hold onto it, try to find that certainty. "Clint – she's just lonely and sad. Her own father told her she's worthless. If I thought Tony was taking advantage of her … I'd be first in line to have him thrown off this ship or into the brig." I try to hold onto that – Peeta is my ally, he's a good guy, he wouldn't want this little girl to get raped if he could help it. Come on, Clint … pull it together … that footage was faked, it had to be … but how could it be? It was too graphic to be faked! But you were hijacked … who knows what they did to your mind … didn't you and Spruce both laugh at it at first? Spruce would never laugh at a little girl getting raped if it looked at all real … you wouldn't laugh at a little girl getting raped … But is that a real memory or a paranoid nightmare?

I get to my feet, as confused as ever but calm now, at peace with my confusion. Or more than I was, anyway.

"I have one question for you, Mr. Barton," the general asks me, and it's the first time I remember he's here since Brandy said she pretends Tony is her husband … whatever she means by that. I turn red but force myself to stand up straight and look him in the eye.

"Yes sir?" I ask respectfully.

"If Tony Stark walked in this door, right at this moment, what would you do?" I try to imagine that.

"I wouldn't be happy to see him, sir," I say flatly.

"I didn't ask how you'd feel. I asked what you'd do."  
"I … I don't know. I don't think … I don't think I'd try to kill him again." But I imagine the rage surging through my veins – I still remember that terribly vividly – and I don't know if I can really say that. "But I don't know for sure."

"I was afraid of that." He turns to leave, and I have to speak.

"General, please … don't keep me out of the field. I know you can't put me with Tony but … I can't sit here, at base, while Kat is out there. While Spruce is – he's been through everything I have, I've got no excuse. While Stephen is out there – he's just a boy. And even Duke …" Duke, Haymitch, Johanna, Finnick and some of the other victors have their unit too … we jokingly call them the Avengers' senior division. "I can't let a boy, and someone who's already been through hell, and my brother and my fiancée fight this war without me. I can't." He looks me over for a long time, studying me.

"If your doctor clears it, you can make a few visits to District 10, maybe 11. As long as you stay behind the lines, and if, by chance, you hear Tony Stark will be anywhere near you, you clear out."

"Yes sir," I say, not believing my luck.

"One other condition."

"Of course, anything!" He turns to Peeta.

"Mellark? You ready for the field?" Peeta stands there for a while, stunned. Then he nods, stands up and shakes the general's hand.

We're going to war.


	7. Livewire (Tony)

Chapter 7

Livewire

Tony

If I think about it too hard, I can still feel the welts on my backside. When Rhodey's dad told mine what we did … I literally thought Amp and I were going to die.

It was my idea – of course it was. "I don't think we should, Tony," Amp said quietly. Story of his life.

"It will be okay – they grow back," I said, and handed him the trimmers. We spent the next ten minutes very clumsily cutting off flowers from my parents' garden, gathering them up into two awkward bouquets. The little neighbor girl seemed to like hers – Pepper just kind of looked at hers, like she knew what was coming. Which she probably did – she's four years older than me and was smart enough to know that, whether they grew back or not, the adults would not be happy when they saw our handiwork. Honestly, I was too – but I never let the fear of adult wrath stop me from doing something I really wanted to do. Amp and I came into the kitchen, traipsing mud everywhere on top of everything, while she was still washing dishes for her mother. She just looked at the flowers and the muddy tracks for a while, then sighed and stood on a chair to reach a vase to put the flowers in. "Thank you Tony. It's the thought that counts I guess," she said shortly and went back to work. That rejection hurt much worse than the spanking I got later.

* * *

For a time, there were seven kids all living under the Stark family roof – from oldest to youngest, there was Pepper, Rhodey, me, Amp, Pepper's twin brothers Dill and Thyme, and Rhodey's sister Cale. Dad was determined he wasn't going to lose any of us – and he bent some laws to try to ensure it.

Hiring a champion swimmer from District 4 was relatively easy to justify – recreational swimming was well known in the Capitol, and it wasn't like the Arena was the only place in Panem where we could conceivably encounter a large body of water, so no one blinked when a rich victor with more money that the President pulled strings to bring someone in to be a swim instructor for his kid and his servants' kids. Maybe they were even a little sympathetic considering he almost drowned, and was known to be unable to go anywhere near a body of water larger than a bathtub. He already had the plant expert from District 11 – Rhodey's dad taught us, completely in secret since we weren't supposed to train and District 3 had never been loyal enough to justify the Capitol looking the other way like they did in 1, 2, and 4, how to drink dew off leaves and pull up roots for food and what plants were edible and which would kill us. If anyone from the Capitol had asked, we would have said we were banned from climbing the trees in the back lawn – it was actually quite the opposite.

The weapons experts were a bit harder to justify – we weren't supposed to have anything bigger than a kitchen knife, after all. But my parents hosted huge parties every year – victors and important Capitol people alike showed up for them, and there were enough people around that Marty, the crabby old man from District 7, Silver from District 1, or Tide from District 4, could slip away unnoticed to show us how to swing axes, fire an arrow, or fight with broadswords, either to repay Dad for an uncharacteristically charitable gesture towards their tributes or because he outright paid them.

The most elaborate one was the cave-in training – Dad was working on some kind of robot to help with mine rescue and brought in people from 2 and 12 to "consult" on the project. Part of it was real, but they took it in shifts – most of them would be in talking to him and his engineers about soil type and rescue behaviors, and a few would be in the backyard, burying us kids alive in the interests of teaching us to dig ourselves and/or our allies out. Everything else was a game until then, when I was buried alive eight times. There's nothing quite like having loose dirt pouring into every orifice while you desperately try to remember what your coal miner instructor told you about moving your head back and forth to try to make an air pocket or frantically shoving rough rocks aside to get to your best friend to make you start to question the sanity of every adult around you. No one was exempt from it – not even Cale, who was five.

It was only the second time with the dirt, but Pepper and most of the little ones were already hysterical. "Don't make them do it again," Amp pleaded softly. "They can just watch …"  
"Mr. Stark was very specific. I know it's not fun – but your life might depend on it," said the woman from District 12 who was preparing the box contraption that had been set up to bury us for another round. She was sympathetic, but she didn't want Dad's wrath to fall on her, and she probably actually believed she might be saving our lives.

Again and again we did it – each of was buried four times in loose dirt, four times in rocks. By the end, we were all in tears, and Pepper was a wreck. I dug her out the last time – she was supposed to be helping from underneath but she was just shaking, crying, and staring at nothing. I moved a rock away from her face but her legs were still trapped. "Pepper? Are you okay?" I asked, but she didn't answer – just kept staring right on through me, until I took the rocks off her legs. She seemed to snap to life for a second and stumbled out quickly, stripping off the armor that protected us while the rocks fell (the miners were very, very sure to emphasize how unrealistic that was) and walked away from the rock pile and collapsed to the ground, then didn't say another word.

"I think … that's enough," the man from 2 who had taken over by then said softly, but really they just couldn't stand to do it to us again.

"Um … thanks for helping us," Amp said, the only one of us who managed politeness at that point. Rhodey picked up Cale and stormed off to the house with Dill and Thyme right behind him. Pepper didn't move.

I helped Pepper to her feet, and felt her hand shake in mine. She put her arm around my neck and I basically supported her on the way back to the house. "Pepper? Are you going to be okay?" I asked as Amp opened the back door for me and I led her in.

"I'm fine … I just … I'm actually sort of embarrassed I panicked the way I did …" But she was still shaking.

"Nah it's okay, it was really bad," I said, trying to shake it off.

"I'm the oldest and I should … I should have been better."

"It's okay it's just … people are scared of stuff, like Dad with water," I said trying to play it cool.

"Your dad has a very good reason to be afraid of water, Tony. I was just …" she started to cry but tried to pretend she hadn't. Amp and I dropped her off with her mother, who was wringing her hands nervously waiting for us to come back.

I took off for Dad's offices right away. "Tony? What are you doing?" Amp called after me. I didn't answer, but he followed anyway.

It was either a bus ride or a fairly long walk to Dad's offices from the house – I walked it in half the time I usually did. I stormed past the front desk, with dust still clinging to my clothes, hair, and skin. "Anthony, your dad's with …" his secretary tried to call to me. I ignored her and ran right on through. He was talking to Obadiah and the miners who weren't on shift training us.

"Tony? What are …." Dad started. I couldn't stand the sight of him. I rushed forward without a word and shoved him as hard as I could, knocking him back against his desk and sending some papers flying.

"What's wrong with you?" I demanded. "We could have died today."  
"I made sure that would not be the case," he answered evenly. I tried to punch him but he caught my wrist and grabbed the other before I could even try with the other hand.

"The little ones were crying and Pepper just …"  
"It wasn't meant to be fun."  
"You're so paranoid and you think we're all going to be drawn and you think …"  
"I don't know what will happen, Tony. All I know is that if one of you is drawn, I will be damned if you don't have a shot. I've done everything I can to give you and your friends a chance to survive if the worst comes to worst. I don't care if you don't like me – I care if you're killed." I had a hard time believing that – I didn't even think he liked me very much.

"You just … you don't … you probably just like to torture us …"  
"I'm busy right now, Anthony. We'll discuss this later," he said, and marched me to the door.

"I'll take him home, Howard," Obadiah offered.

"I don't need a babysitter," I protested.

"Yes you do," Obadiah whispered sharply as he practically shoved me out the door.

We walked about half of the way home in silence. "Everything that man does is for you, Tony," Obadiah said softly.

"Sure it is," I said skeptically. I had already accepted long ago that I would never have my father's affection and only his attention when I had screwed up or if we happened to strike on a topic in engineering we were both interested in.

"The day you were born, he broke down in terror because he couldn't stop thinking about you being reaped." I was probably never supposed to know that story – ten-year-old me stopped walking, stunned by the revelation that Howard Stark had breakdowns. "Every birthday it's the same, and it gets worse every year." He disappears for several hours every year on my birthday, and he's hung over worse than ever the next day. I always thought … it was because he didn't want me. "And if you ask me, the day you stand in your first reaping is going to be the day a rebel is born."

"We're not supposed to talk about that anywhere," I whispered worriedly. Not even out here in the seemingly open air with no one else around. Or at least I wasn't allowed – I knew Mom, Obadiah, Beatee and the others have a safe meeting place somewhere. It was probably the only rule for my household I actually followed – I was old enough to understand what would happen if I blabbed about the things I overheard. My whispered warning was ignored. "He'll look at you in the crowd and have to accept you could die even with all he's done, and he has no control over it. And things … things happen to victors. The Games make survivors, not winners, and he knows he can't do anything about that. Howard can't stand not to be in control, especially when it comes to protecting people he loves," he said seriously, then gave me a smirk. "It's a weakness," he said and laughed, and I had no idea what was funny. "I hope this isn't the case, but you might find yourself very grateful for these lessons one day."

"I doubt it," I said defiantly. Amp had just listened the whole time. He tried to take my hand, but I refused – I was still angry and I thought I was getting too old to be holding hands and stuff with other boys. (Because double standards hadn't occurred to me yet.) We went home in silence, with me still stewing.

But as soon as Dad came home that day, I was there to meet him. "I'm sorry Dad. I know … I know you're just trying to protect us …" I could only think about my conversation with Obadiah, and I threw my arms around him, one of the only times I'd ever hugged him since I was little. To my surprise, he returned the hug and patted my back, and we didn't need to say anything else.

* * *

Three days out from Finnick's wedding, we fly out again – it might have been quicker to fly out by myself in the suit, but the powers that be always insist I bring my little crew, so we hitched a ride with the supplies we're sending from District 11 to the rebel base. On orders from higher up, Rhodey, Pepper, electricians Cadmium and Wu, Cornelius my obnoxious stylist, and two cameramen in camera-encrusted suits follow me everywhere. Cressida didn't find the footage captured by Dad's camera balls to her liking, and we're only using those when it's way too dangerous to bring in the actual camera people, and they're a surprisingly brave bunch so that's not very often. We're in District 1 today, not 3 – we're in spitting distance of the Capitol surrounded by people who are less than friendly. If I had my way, Pepper would be sitting at home, safe and sound. Well not at home, since home is almost as dangerous as here. At base. But she insists she wants to help – she says she owes it to the rebels for getting her family out safely just before the Arena force field blew. Like it wasn't one of Dad's conditions that they get all his house staff so the Capitol couldn't use them against us, and they didn't need him so desperately they did it. Besides, she's been personally recruited by Sir Harps-A-Lot to be my personal prison warden – I guess he figures I'll like it better coming from someone I've known all my life than him. I don't, really – either I'm so into what I'm doing that I don't care or I'm trying to have a good time and Pepper comes along and makes me feel like crap about it.

I'm glad to have Rhodey though – he's been practicing in a flight suit I built for him, and I know he'll have my back.

It's dead quiet in the plane and I try to sleep – I don't sleep much any more. Unfortunately, Cornelius has decided not to let me. " I just don't know how they expect me to get along without my team," he said with a dramatic sigh. "I suppose that's why they put me with you … you've got a camera ready face, Tony, just a little make-up and …"  
"I know. My Dad panicked about it when I was ten." Pepper was fourteen, old enough to start dating, so Mom put full make-up on her for the first time on her birthday. I got jealous of the attention and asked for some too so Mom lined my eyes and Dad … Dad did not like the sight of either of us.  
"Why on Earth would …"

"Probably has something to do with what happened to the good-looking victors," I say casually, and I watch him squirm. He was never a stylist for the Games, all though he apparently applied for it – did he know the seedy side of the job he applied for? Either way, he doesn't bother me anymore, and I fall asleep.

I don't dream on this flight – that's very lucky for me.

"Wake up Tony," Pepper says gently and shakes me by the shoulder. I lift my head and know we're on the ground.

"Will you think about just staying on and going home?" I ask.

"Not a chance."

"Of course not," I say wryly, and swallow an energy pill with the help of an open beer. She looks at me disapprovingly while I do. "Why are you so worried over me? I should be worried about you." She gives the bottle a pointed look.

"My only one today." By then Cornelius has descended on me to redo my make-up – even though my face will be hidden by my mask for most of the mission. He starts with my eyes – he's learned to do it fast, so he's got my eyes lined and my lashes extended out and coated in mascara before Pepper and I have exchanged more than a few words.  
"Fine but you're going out into a really dangerous situation and I am not telling your mother you died. If you make me do that, Tony Stark, I'll …"  
"I'll be dead, what will you do to me?" I ask, and try not to grin. She sees it anyway and smacks me with her clipboard.

"Do you have Beatee's download?"

"Yes, Pepper. Already got it memorized." I have to shut up for a minute because Cornelius coats my lips in what I think is way too much lip gloss.  
"Good. You have the maps?"  
"Yes. And clean underwear," I say when I'm allowed to speak. She smacks me again. "That one was just spiteful." Cornelius finishes my make-up by adding just a tiny bit of almost flesh-toned blush to my cheekbones. I know it's not a lot but I feel like a clown with it.

"I am trying to make sure you have everything you need to not die."

"I've got it, honey, don't worry."  
"Don't call me honey. People will talk."  
"I call everyone honey," I protest, not sure why that suddenly makes her angry.

"You've got emergency rations too?"

"Yes and first aid and my tracking device and the nightlock …" The mention of the last one makes her grimace, but she thinks I can't see it.

"Don't use it unless you have to." That one rubs me the wrong way. Like I don't know, of all people, what it does …  
"Thanks, Pepper, I would have just popped it like candy if you hadn't told me," I say, more sharply than anything else.

"Just, be careful, is what I'm saying," she says gently.

"Thanks Pepper, I love you too," Rhodey says with a smile as he disembarks.

"You're not an idiot, I don't have to tell you anything," she calls after him. Before I can say anything, she takes me by the collar and pulls me close. I think she's going to kiss me for a second. "I mean it, Tony. Do not do anything stupid. I'm not standing at your funeral the way I stood at Amp's, you understand me?"

I'm surprised by the heat of the words and the reference to Amp. I don't remember how she was during his funeral … I just remember how I was. "Yeah. I get it. I'll be careful," I say, and I try to say it roughly but my façade doesn't quite hold up.

"Go get us back on the air," she says and kisses me. I don't even know how to react.

* * *

Shale was in the hangar, focused, with her head bent over the plans from Beatee. "Yo Five," I said loudly, just to be a jerk. She jumped about a foot.

"Damn it, Tony," she snapped. I was breaking her concentration, but also hopefully her nerves. Her training was in geology, but Beatee's instructions were detailed enough that anyone with a basic knowledge of tools could follow them, and Dad and I would both have a line directly to her to help her figure out anything unexpected. It was a far more useful skill in this line of work that she was quiet and sneaky – way quieter and sneakier than I could ever be, even once I finished the arc reactor and got away from this big stupid battery. "I need to focus!" she added when I laughed.  
"You've probably got those plans memorized by now – and anyway you'll have them to look at."

"I'd like to not have to look at them – it wastes time and I run the risk of leaving them behind if I have to retreat," she said evenly. She tried to keep her face blank, but I saw the way she pulled away from me. I wanted to kiss her, but I knew she didn't want it and it hurt, because I hadn't wanted any one girl so much ever before in my life.

"You've still got the hovercraft ride." She was going to District 6 today, and it was dangerous. I thought it should be left to the actual special forces, but the higher ups thought it was stable enough to send her – District 6 is not exactly a hotspot of Capitol loyalty.

"I do."  
"So … just relax a little bit here …" I tried to lean in closer but she pulled back, and I realized I was only making her more nervous and decided I better leave. Which meant getting the cart with my battery moving, which was always a pain. I started to maneuver it, trying to be cool and not show the hurt – physical or otherwise – and she put a hand on mine over the side of the cart, then nervously shifted her hand to a different spot on the cart. I was mad at myself for liking that touch so much.

"I'll help you with it …"  
"It's okay, I've got it, don't put yourself out," I said, more roughly than I meant to.

"It's not … I don't mind."

"That's funny … I got the impression you didn't want me around," I said, and I managed to smile. She looked me right in the eyes and didn't hesitate on what she said next.

"I'm not going to be just another conquest. I'm not going to be just an item on anyone's list." I was speechless – I wanted to tell her that she wouldn't be, but I couldn't find words that didn't sound blatantly insincere. So I just nodded. "What does that even mean?" she asked, annoyed with me.

"I … have never felt this way about anyone," I said lamely, knowing full well it sounded like a line, and she gave me a look that said she was thinking that too. "I know what that sounds like but I mean it. I'm … I'm … I'm never at a loss for words with women, unless that woman is Shale Montgomery in which case I suddenly become a complete idiot." She was still looking at me skeptically. "Look … what if we just … hang out? And maybe hold hands or something and maybe kiss if you feel really frisky … but we won't do anything more until you know that I mean it, and you're one hundred percent ready to go there with me?"

"Really? You'd let me set the pace and you'd be happy not doing anything?"

"Happy might be a strong word," I said, and caught her look. "Yes. I would be okay with that."  
"And I mean really not doing anything because if that was what we were doing and I caught you with someone else, you'd be very sorry." I pretended to be considering for a moment, and she rolled her eyes.

"It won't be any different from what I'm already doing. I wasn't all that eager to try to figure out how to maneuver around shrapnel wounds and a car battery at first … and now I'm so busy watching you I don't care about trying to figure it out with anyone else." Her eyes softened, and then she threw her arms around me and kissed me on the lips. Our lips parted and it became a French kiss. Short but sensual – I could tell she had some experience with kissing and I sure didn't mind. It was like sparks flew – I always heard that and thought it was cheesy but it's true.

"I'll hold you to it," she said, trying to sound stern but her face broke out in a big grin. "Now, leave me alone so I can focus. I'll never learn these things if you're in here."

It took me a minute to say, "Okay," and turn to leave, still a little stunned as I struggled with the cart.

* * *

The electricians, the camera guy, Rhodey, and I make the rest of the way on foot to the first tower where we need to switch wires and add a bug, while the plane takes off to the nearest rebel camp to make the supply drop. It will be back as soon as everything is unloaded – Pepper will actually help, Cornelius will hide in the plane the way I want Pepper to, in case there's a raid on the rebel camp while they unload. The plane went out of it's way to skirt Diamond City, the largest city in District 1 (and yes they all have stupid names like that) and all the little towns around it and drop us as close to the tower as it could get safely. It's not a long walk.

I know all the plans by heart, and I have Jarvis on the line to tell me anything I need to know if I'm overestimating my familiarity with the plans. He may be "just" a butler but he knows the wires almost as well as I do, and I trust his voice. I'd rather have Dad, but Dad is actually flying a hovercraft for a supply drop in District 5 today (and I won't stop worrying until Jarvis tells me he made it back to base, not that I'll ever admit that).

The first tower is mostly hidden – they made it look like a hill of some kind, so that it didn't stand out as a target for attack or curiosity from locals. It must have been a terrible fake at first, but over time, dirt has gathered on it and it looks very real until you get up close to it. It's very flat here, so really the fact it's a hill stands out more than anything. I wonder how many kids played on it just for that. We go into stealth mode when we get close and stay back until I hear Jarvis' voice reassuring me that the coast is clear. "I believe you will find an entrance at the southern base of the tower." We make our way to the southern base, the side which faces the city, unfortunately, with Rhodey and I using invisible paneling and the camera guy being painfully conspicuous despite camouflage, but if there's no one there it shouldn't matter.

I find a handle on the south entrance and expect to have to struggle to open the door, but to my surprise it opens – the lock is already broken. Our special forces wouldn't have done that, so I'm already on alert.

The inside is almost as dusty as the outside – my first thought is that I have doubts about the state of electronics in such a place, and my second thought is alarm at the fresh footprints on the ground. "Jarvis?"

"I see it, Tony, I'm trying to locate any possible source based on the readings from your suit …"  
"Tony – cover my back while I go first to the control room?" Rhodey says, seeing the footprints lead up the terribly rickety looking wooden stairs.

"Sure thing – Cad, Wu, … camera guy …"

"Thaddeus."

"Yeah, all of you follow Rhodey." Rhodey heads up the stairs with guns at the ready, the electricians and Thaddeus walk up the stairs after him. I follow, walking backwards, with my eyes peeled and listening for word from Jarvis. We make our way up the long, winding stairs, which creak under our weight (especially mine and Rhodey's, if we didn't know there was a possible threat, we would have left our armor downstairs). My heart races … but most of that is from the pill I took starting to kick in. We're near the top, with no sign of anyone when I hear from Jarvis.

"Sir, I'm picking up a heartbeat in the control room."

"Noted, Rhodey … Be careful opening the door, Jarvis just confirmed we've got company in the control room." Cad, Wu, and Thad (his name is now Thad whether he likes it or not for easy rhyming purposes) stand to the side and let me pass.

We come to the door – there's no way they haven't heard us, but they haven't come out guns blazing. I'd like to say that our reputation precedes us … but I'm more concerned that they've left behind one of the especially dedicated idiots to blow himself and us sky high when we get in. Rhodey decides to call in even though they've surely heard us by now. "This is the URF! Come out now with hands up!"

"Prove it!" a little voice comes from inside – I would guess the person inside is anywhere between eight and twelve, probably a boy but maybe just a girl with a husky voice. "Prove you're with the rebels!" We look at each other – we don't relax any because we know the Capitol's willing to use child soldiers.

"This is Tony Stark. You've probably heard of me." There's a long silence.

"Prove it, let me see your face."

"I don't know, what will you do when you see me?"

"If it's really Tony Stark, I won't shoot." That makes me feel a bit better – if he had a bomb he'd threaten that, not the gun, and I doubt he's a good enough shot to get my face on the first try before my face plate is down.

"Okay – I'm coming in," I say, and Rhodey opens the door slowly. I raise my face plate and step in slowly, with my hands raised – I don't want to startle the kid.

The … probably a boy, but I'm not entirely sure … is sitting in the far corner, holding a Peacekeeper's gun awkwardly (his or her arms are way too short to hold it properly) and shaking. He or she sees my face and drops the weapon. "It is you!" He … I'm pretty sure he's a he now … stands up and runs to me, and I brace myself. He wraps his arms around me – I remember I'm supposed to be a symbol of hope or something and try not to grimace since Thad is surely taping and I pat his back. He's got short dark hair, which I ruffle a little too, to try really hard to look fraternal. Stephen makes it look so easy.

"Yeah it is, I'm here," I say, trying to find a tone and coming up with confusion.

"I was hoping someone would come … I didn't think it would be you …" Pretty sure he's a he … the voice says boy. I would say the haircut too, but in the inner districts the girls sell their hair to wigmakers and the people who chop it off don't always do a great job of making it look like a feminine cut … The kid is thin enough for me to believe she might need to sell her hair …

"Yeah we … we came to get the rebels back on the air," I say. By now the electricians are in, and Rhodey is standing guard at the door just to be safe. "What are you doing here?" He steps back and points to the place where the bug, remarkably, is still attached. The Capitol men wouldn't have left it.

"I tried to fix the wires to get you back on air … I always played at the hill, I knew what it was … after we got spots from the rebels, I knew they did something, so I broke in and looked around …" That explains the broken lock. "I saw the bug – I knew it wasn't part of the original wiring so I started keeping my ear out … when I heard they were on their way to repair it, I ran up here and took the bug … I tried to reconnect it once they were gone, but I must not have done it right since we didn't get the signal back …"  
"The bug is installed correctly, Tony," Cad says after taking a quick look at it while Wu quickly starts doing other rewires.

"That's not all …" I choose the masculine pet name I generally use, since I figure a girl would be less bothered by it than a boy would be by being called "honey." "Buddy. We have to make other adjustments, but the bug is most important. That takes the longest." And it saves us a bug to use somewhere else – he's done good. Or she. But he's lucky he didn't get himself killed. Or she.

"Oh. Damn, I wish I'd known that, I would have paid more attention …"  
"You would have brought Peacekeepers down on yourself if the signal had come back," I say quickly. "You were stupid to do what you did."  
"But I wanted to …"  
"I know you wanted to help. But you're a kid, okay?"  
"Captain America isn't much older than me." Is that what they're calling Stephen now? Ugh.

"He's almost fourteen now, and he's had treatments that made him stronger. You're … what, eight?"  
"Ten!" the kid says indignantly.

"You look eight. I don't want you anywhere near this tower again, you understand? Once the signal is live, this tower will be crawling with Peacekeepers, and …"  
"Yeah, I get it. I'm not stupid," the kid says, but he … or she … I have to figure this out … is really giving me the stink eye about it.

"Hey, when's the last time you had a good meal … what's your name?"  
"Harley," he says, and loudly ignores the first question. I take that combined with how thin he is as "a long time" and take some of the emergency provisions from a compartment in my suit. Even if we get stranded, I can stand to lose a lot more weight than he can.

"That's a weird name for District 1," I say as I hand him the provisions. And it gets me no closer to deciphering the kid's gender, crap. Wu glares at me over her shoulder, but this Harley kid has balls … perhaps not literally but figuratively this kid is putting us all to shame. He or she doesn't need to be handled with kid gloves.

"Yeah," the kid says, and doesn't elaborate.

"That took a lot of skill to put the bug back," I say instead as he tears open the package of bread and starts to eat it hungrily. I will never stop hating watching kids eat that way.

"I just … I like building and fixing things. I guess I got it from my grandfather. He built motorcycles in District 6 … Guess it skipped a generation, because all my dad was good for was loading and unloading trains and getting local girls pregnant." And that explains the name – the most likely explanation is he's named after his dad, since it doesn't sound like his deadbeat dad was around long enough to name him. And now I'm pretty sure he's a he. Like eighty-nine percent sure.

"That's good. We can use skill like that. When all this is over, you can come to District 3 and learn from Beatee …"

"Only if we win."

"Don't be an idiot, we're going to win," I say forcefully.

"You're so sure – only real battle so far has ended in a tie," he points out.

"But you chose our side for a reason right?"  
"I know who I want to win," he says. "I'm sick of starving. I'm sick of watching kids like me get killed by the kids my district sends to act like freaking savages." I've never thought it would be like to be a non-Career in a Career District, watching the ones from your district torturing little kids to death and laughing, knowing your whole district was painted with that brush. I watch him start in on the horrible vegetable hash that I wouldn't touch unless I was already starving to death. I notice he's left half the bread, half the jerky, and hasn't touched the flash dried fruit and tiny bar of chocolate despite that being the best part yet – I know he's got someone he's looking out for. I take all my other provisions out and hand them to him – he smiles and tears open the dried fruit from the first pack I gave him.

"Is that wise, Tony?" Cad asks. I ignore him.

"Who are you saving food for?" I ask Harley.  
"My sister. I've been able to get some of the donated tesserae grain for her and I make a little bit sweeping the shops on Bubble Street …" Ugh, the street names are as bad as the town names.

"Where's your mom?" his face falls, and he doesn't answer, so I don't ask for anything more.

"She worked for a watchmaker," he says after a while. "I was hoping he'd give me a job or at least help for a little bit … instead, he threatened to call the Peacekeepers on me just for asking more than once. So I went to the training center to volunteer … they said I wasn't strong enough so they gave me some grain and sent me home instead." Of course – they scout for potential tributes from a much younger age. I remember I was surprised when I found out what the people in charge of the training center in District 1 do with the grain their volunteers take on the tesserae – they sell about half of it for very cheap to recoup at least some of the cost of training, and they give the other half away to the poor children of District 1 too young to take the tesserae. And they count the best part of a victory to be the fact all of the kids get treats for another year – they really, genuinely, want to make their district stronger, all of it. Our messages to them have been focused on convincing them they shouldn't have to sacrifice at least one child every year and usually two to do that.

"What happened to the Careers being savages?"  
"There's only two volunteers and several dozen kids in each class. I thought you'd be better at math." I smack him in the back of the head – lightly, not enough to hurt even a little.

"Look, take the packages, those will give you a few good meals, and take care of your sister as best you can. But don't come around here any more – it'll be crawling with Peacekeepers."  
"But …"  
"Our people will focus on taking it and the other towers back so we can get the signal out. I want you to worry about staying alive." I look at his face, and I know he's not going to take that. "You know … we need a representative from District 1 on the Avengers. I mean, we've got three from District 12 … and most of the districts don't have anyone on the team. You wanna come with us?" He looks up at me skeptically, but when my expression doesn't change his eyebrows furrow.  
"What about my sister? Can we go get her?"  
"Tony – we don't have the time or the resources," Rhodey says before I can say yes.

"Then I have to stay to take care of her," Harley says without hesitation.

"And you can protect her by not coming around here anymore," I say quickly.

"But …" I see the look on his face and I know it's not sitting well with him, so I decide I have to be brutally honest.

"You know my friend, the Hulk?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says with a nod.

"You know he was held by the Capitol. They didn't just hurt him – they hurt people from his village to try to get to him. You don't want the Capitol to hurt your sister do you?" He shakes his head. "So you won't come back?" He nods. But I like this kid, and I don't like the thought of him going away totally unarmed, since he surely leaves the Peacekeeper's gun which I've avoided asking about here, since he can't exactly hide it under his jacket. So I take a small device from my suit and toss it to him.

"What's this?" he asks.

"It's a sonic paralysis inducer. If anyone tries to mess with you, you push this button," I put my hand over the button but don't press it. "To put them out of action. Make sure you have your ears covered when you do." Rhodey and the electricians still have theirs – I can do without mine for this mission.

"Cool, thanks," Harley says as he takes it and puts it in a little leather bag along with the three ration packages I gave him.

"We've got it," Cad says, which was expected because, with the bug already attached, they could split the remaining work among themselves and the rewiring was always the smaller task as it was.

"Okay – you need to go first."

"Why?"  
"In case someone's watching. We'll watch your back as you go," Rhodey explains, and Harley gets up to go.

As soon as he's down the stairs, Rhodey turns on me. "Why did you give him a weapon like that, Tony?" Rhodey asks.

"So he's not defenseless if the Peacekeepers come after him or …"  
"You're giving him permission to try something stupid!"  
"I was arming him so he's not helpless if the idiocy goes to him. It's done now, anyway. Come on – we said we'd watch his back, and we've got four more towers to reconnect just in Diamond City." He rolls his eyes, but we make our way down the stairs.

A couple of weeks later, I've barely finished the final tower outside of Ruby City (I told you they were all stupid names) when I get the orders. General Fury's voice takes over for Jarvis in my head. "Stark – you ready for some real action?" he asks.

"Define real action," I say cautiously.

"You need to get to District 7 now. You think you can make the flight?"  
"Sure but that's not very specific."  
"I trust you have a map somewhere in your fancy suit?"  
"I do." He gives me some coordinates, and I pull them up by voice command. To my surprise, the coordinates give me a result I don't like.  
"Muleshoe? Isn't that Spruce's village?" I ask. It was burned and everyone in it was massacred – why I am I needed there? They're not expecting me to show up and cry are they? They're more likely to get anger if they expect me to walk through the ruins.

"Just make your way there, and quickly." Fair enough, I've been chewed out enough for not following orders.

"Rhodey, I'm being called somewhere else," I say quickly. "Just me."  
"Take this then," Wu says, and hands me her sonic paralyzer. I had almost forgotten I gave mine to Harley. "You'll find more use for it then I will."

"Thanks," I say. I wish Pepper was here – I'd like to tell her goodbye one more time before I take off. But she's in town, unloading supplies for the rebels who are trying to turn the tide here.

"I'll let her know about your mission, sir," Jarvis tells me comfortingly, and I'm glad to have him back.

"Thank you," I say as I take flight.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Oh my gosh flashback overdose … but I feel like every one was necessary. If you think this could do with some trimming, let me know in the comment section/reviews. At least one of them is like really important for foreshadowing but I won't tell you which one (you can probably guess).

I think District 1 is somewhere in what used to be Nevada, which is why I made it dry and flat. For fun, Diamond City is probably built on the ruins of Las Vegas.

I was tempted to add Harley all along, since Harley was my absolute favorite part of _Iron Man 3_ (which I honestly didn't otherwise care for) but had decided against it until I got a specific request for Harley. Even then I wouldn't have done it, except I figured out a way to incorporate him in a way that is more than fanservice (we'll be seeing Harley again, she said in an ominous voice).

I may have pulled a muscle stretching to justify the name Harley.

Tony's confusion over Harley's gender is a nod to several things. Harley appears to be loosely based on a little _girl_ who appeared in the Iron Man comics, and I get the impression that role was actually written for a little girl – that whole "I'm cold," thing to try to get Tony to stay seemed more like something a little girl would do (my Mom did research on learned helplessness in gifted girls for her master's degree and I see it everywhere lol). I wouldn't be surprised if the script called for a little girl but someone was blown away by Ty Simpkins' audition or work in another film and it was rewritten specifically for him. In fact, at least one tvtropes user willfully ignored all evidence to the contrary to insist Harley is in fact a girl. (Cue the Harley Quinn and Kevin Smith jokes.)

I'm probably going a little Draco in Leather Pants on the career districts. I just really wanted to make them not pure evil.


	8. Everything I Ever Wanted (Drusa)

Chapter 8

Everything I Ever Wanted

Drusa

I have everything I've ever wanted. I live in a house in victor's village, far away from the foul Vinicius but next to my mentor and one of our most beloved victors, Emilianus Blonski, and my sister, whom I never really liked yet didn't want to leave with Vinicius, lives in the back rooms of the house when she's not at the training center and I never see her. I know she's safe, I know she's comfortable. I don't have to talk to her at breakfast. Two sweet little children play at my feet during the day while their mothers work, a strong-willed boy and girl. The boy, Aetius, is the image of his father, blond and already big for his age, while the girl, who has my first name and now my last, is dark-headed and dark-eyed and slight, but no less stubborn than her bigger half-brother, having learned the words "no" and "mine" and using them often. They like to sleep in the same playpen – I don't know why. They don't ever actually play together, but I guess that's normal for their age. It's even better than I dreamed it would be.

But I can barely sleep at night. I know from the intel meetings I'm allowed into that Spruce Banner is alive, transformed by experiments in the Capitol but alive and apparently healthy. Clint Barton is also alive – he was hijacked and tortured, and the rebels keep him safe at their base instead of sending him out like the others, but he's alive. I had to hide my joy at the revelation, and pretend to be annoyed that the boy who "stole my glory" had survived his ordeal. I know, from propos the rebels themselves released, that he's allegedly engaged to Katniss but I'm not sure if it's real or just for show. I know nothing else about his condition – I drop off information with secure contacts but I receive practically none.

When I'm not being asked to sit in on intel meetings, arranging information drops, or filming ridiculous propos, I fill my hours practicing my talent – it's no longer a joy so much as a thin refuge now. Even as I stretch and leap and memorize steps, I think about what's going to happen when the war is over. Both outcomes seem equally likely at this time.

If the Capitol wins – everyone I fought for will die. It's inevitable that my involvement will come to light, and I'll be executed as a traitor, and it won't be quick. My sister and the mothers of my adopted children will be considered guilty by association. Anthony, Stephen, Katniss, and Thresh will all be executed publicly, and also not quickly. Lieutenant Coulson, being an anonymous District 13 soldier, save for a memorable soundbite, may be lucky enough to get a bullet in the head, but I doubt it. The Hunger Games will continue as they always have. Aetius and little Drusa, if they're not killed as well, will probably go to the Academy, and they may one day volunteer …

If the rebels win, I am unsure what to expect. Lieutenant Coulson told me there would be lenience for victors and Peacekeepers, and I want to believe him even though I know it was in his interest to tell me this whether it was the truth or not. In any event, there is a possibility of mercy, which is more than can be said for the rebels if the Capitol wins, and the Hunger Games will end. Aetius and little Drusa will never endure the things I did. Obviously, this is the outcome I'm hoping for and it's not hard to motivate myself to gather whatever meager information I can to help.

I know what they did to Spruce's village – I had to watch the footage and not flinch when I watched men, women, and children being shot as they fled their burning homes. I even managed a derisive laugh. I know what they're planning there – I'm sure Fury suspected long before I passed on the information. Surely they won't let him go home – not with that information in hand?

I'm practicing, trying to be quiet because it's naptime, when I hear little Drusa start to cry. I hurry to her playpen, hoping I can comfort her before she wakes her brother, only to find I have no such luck when I hear Aetius start to cry as well. I have a woman who looks after them most of the time, but I can't stand to let them cry. I lift little Drusa first since she was crying longer and try to make her smile. I'm not very good at it, but I feel better than doing nothing.

Then, my day continues to get better. Clove comes in, holding a bunch of papers and a pen. Which means she wants me to sign something even though she's an adult now too – which means it's major. I already paid her tuition so either she wants to get married or she needs me to sign the papers that agree to …

No.

"What's this?" I ask even though I already know. I set little Drusa down in her playpen in case it gets physical.

"They're recruiting for new Peacekeepers," she answers evenly.

"No. You're not eighteen," I say flatly.

"I will be in a few months – and they're recruiting as young as fifteen now."

"No. You've still got your training and …" Sure enough, she shoves me hard.  
"Wake up, Drusa! There won't be Games this year! It's my only chance to make a name for myself."  
"You don't have to do this, I'll pay for …"  
"It's not about having to!" she shouts, like I'm being a complete idiot, and the babies start to cry harder. "Do you know what it's like to live in your shadow?!"

"I … I …" Nothing in me wants to do it. I want to keep her here safe until the rebels storm the Capitol. But that's not the part I'm playing. "It'll be different from the Academy, they'll expect more discipline …"  
"I know that. They're taking kids directly from the Academy and some of the younger victors. They're making us an elite team. You could probably join if you wanted …" They may force me to – but probably not. I'm more useful for propos and I can always claim the babies as my responsibility – the last thing the Capitol needs is to show themselves tearing women away from their children, adopted or not.

"It's … If it's what you want, I'll be honored to see my sister serving her nation," I say, and I manage to keep a straight face. It helps that the nanny comes in and lifts the babies to comfort them, and the crying immediately slows down and it's easier to think.

"Yes! Yes thank you!" she cheers with terrifying delight. I take the pen from her and look for the spot for my name on all the papers, and sign with a steady hand even though inside I'm screaming.

"I think that's everywhere, look it over before you turn it in," I say I after I've signed my name. I wrap my arms around her so she won't see the tears I can't hide anymore.

"May you bring honor to the mother who bore you, to the father who beget you, and the land that molded you," I say softly. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

At least this way she'll probably be safe if the Capitol wins the war, if she lives that long. Oh who am I kidding? They'll accuse her of sabotage or something – it won't matter.

As soon as she's gone, I go to take a long bath so my tears can fall into the water, camouflaged.

**Author's Note**

The good news: I found a lab, so I get to stay in grad school. The bad news: I am starting the take-home portion of my first year exam, and that will be about ten days and then we have an in class final on May 30, so updates will continue to be slow at least for the next two weeks. But due to my mentor taking off in June, I may actually have a month off to write (woohoo!)


	9. Blood and Oil (Stephen)

Chapter 9

Blood and Oil

Stephen

Prim's kiss is still on my lips when we touch down in District 5 in the pouring rain. It doesn't rain much here – it's pretty dry most of the time. I almost don't recognize the dry, yellow landscape which is always bathed in bright yellow sunlight when it's flooded with rain and the seemingly relentless sun is blocked out by gray clouds. We're in my hometown – District 5 is spread out, but there's a few large cities. This one is called Amarillo, which I hear used to be the name of another city before the Devouring. If that's true, the first Amarillo must be in ruins somewhere in the wild. Maybe it's the city where that man found the Bibles that Mom and Dad were trying to smuggle.

Bucky's waiting for me on the landing pad – I jump out of my seat before we've landed completely, to the annoyance of my pilot. To spite me, he waits a long time before he opens the door. As soon as he does, I jump down and run to Bucky, and we do the manly half-hug we've learned from watching others. I didn't want to bring him here – I liked it better when he was safe on base with the other family members – but he's the only one who knows the city better than I do. "How was the wedding, Captain?" he asks as we walk inside to the makeshift base we've made from what used to be a warehouse, and I cringe at the address he's taken to calling me.

"Beautiful," I answer, but I'm thinking more about dancing with Prim than the wedding itself, but I don't say that. I don't share the news that Clint proposed to Katniss either – I haven't thought about it much myself. "How's it look here?"  
"Same as always. No progress." That's not what I wanted to hear, but it is what it is. The Capitol is desperate to hold District 5 – they don't have the arc reactors like we do, and therefore they need my homeland's resources. The rebels don't, but if they can cut it off, the war will be over faster, hopefully with less loss of life on either side. I'm all for that.

"There's someone you should meet, Captain," Bucky says, and I cringe at the nickname again. He motions to a boy a few years older than me, whose eyes are clouded and don't quite focus on us when Bucky says, "Matt, this is Captain Rogers …" Oh for the love of God, Bucky, stop that. "Steve, this is Matt Murdoch …" And then his face clicks. He's a good six years older now, but when he was a boy, he beat a Peacekeeper senseless during a riot and slipped into the crowd. The rebel hackers have been playing the footage nonstop since they got control of the airways … reminding our leaders that a little blind boy was more courageous than them.

"Oh! We thought for sure you'd be …" As funny as it was, you couldn't laugh too hard at that footage, knowing the boy was probably hunted down and quietly disposed of.  
"Not for lack of trying," he says grimly. He's got a lot of scars. He holds out his hand and I take it.

"Glad to have you with us," I say, glad that he's safe and thinking that's the end of the story.

"Matt has an idea about how to take the Amarillo refinery," Bucky says quickly. We could use ideas.

Matt leads us into the refinery in a back way no one knew about, through an old, soot-blackened chimney with a very questionable ladder inside. It's cold and cramped and I get nervous going through it and I can see just fine. Maybe that's exactly the problem – I can see exactly how far it is to the ground every time I look down. I have no idea how Matt found it in the first place, but he hurries up the chimney like he does it every day. Matt goes first, I follow second, Bucky follows me, and a bunch of disciplined District 13 soldiers follow. Bucky and I have orders to hang back once the fighting starts, but the cameras need something to capture. This is the first op that's been declared too dangerous for cameramen since I've been in District 5 – the camera balls float behind us.

I remember what Shale said about how her mother died in a refinery, racing to shut down a certain piece of equipment before it caught fire. It makes me nervous to think of fighting in such a place – but that's why we're going to try stealth. They fit me with a uniform so dark blue it's almost black instead of the bright red, white, and blue uniform I usually have, and Matt, Bucky, and the soldiers from 13 are in all black.

We emerge in an abandoned wing of the refinery – Matt explained before we left that it was shut down forever when energy production shifted more towards an algae-based biofuel which is produced in a completely different facility. It was almost reopened now, with the greater need for energy, but so much of the equipment had rotted out it wasn't practical to open it without a lot of rework, which has been called off for the night. I thought of all the times that the power went out, even here in District 5, and how Spruce says the power was almost never on except during the Games and the Victory Tour in District 7, and all the people looking to get a job who would have been happy to work the extra wing … and I think they could have used that extra wing just to help all the districts. Not that that's what the Capitol ever cared about.

We know we're probably on camera now – we're braced for attack at any moment as we make our way through the halls towards the active wings. We need to take it from the inside and make it a defensive spot – a fort for the rebellion and one less refinery to power the Capitol.

It's not long before we reach an active wing. The refinery workers put their hands up in surrender – just as we expected. Several of the District 13 men for every section of the refinery stay behind as we move on to round them up and keep them in one spot to make sure that none sound the alarm. We would take them with us, but then they'd just be shot at. One of them just asks to be allowed to shut off some equipment – we agree, and one of the District 13 soldiers follows him to make sure he doesn't sound the alarm. Even as many as we brought, I'm starting to worry there may not be enough of the guys from 13.

It's almost eerie how much of the refinery we move through before we meet Peacekeepers – they were waiting outside, guarding all the known entry points and never thinking about the abandoned wing. But we do run into them – Bucky and I duck back like we were told and the guys from 13 take them down with frightening efficiency.

I've never quite gotten used to watching the Peacekeepers crumble in a heap of white uniforms and blood – I guess it's a good thing I'm not used to it.

It's a long, hard night – the Peacekeepers can send reinforcements and the battle has gone outside as they try to force their way in. Our forces are outside too – there's fighting in the open lots between towers and outside the complex – there's blood in all the puddles from the rain earlier today and staining the mud. But the refinery is ours – we just have to hold it. Bombs drop occasionally, but they have to be careful – neither side wants to hit something important and blow the refinery. Even if we lose it eventually, every day it's shut down is a day that the Capitol is losing a good portion of their energy resources.

The battle goes on for days on end – with nothing of value for me and Bucky to do. We wait with the refinery workers. I'm almost as scared as them even though I have to be brave and try to comfort them. I lead a lot of prayers – despite the Capitol's best efforts, there are a lot of Christians in District 5. The rebels drop water, food, and medical supplies on the roof and in the lots – retrieving them is deemed too dangerous a task for me, so I have to watch other people risk their life to get it. I watch out the window as several people lose their lives doing this simple mission and I'm not allowed to anywhere near it … It's maddening. The only comfort is the rebel broadcast – we watch it constantly. I see Katniss in District 10 and 11, and Tony in District 1. In spite of everything, I worry about them (and not just for Prim and Brandy's sakes, either), but not as badly as I worry over Thresh – he's risking his life more than any of us, probably because his handlers were scared to tell him to stay behind the lines. I wish he were here … sitting in silence with Thresh was never awkward. Most of all I miss Spruce – he's with Katniss and I worry because of his … condition … but he seems to be doing okay. He gets to actually do useful stuff – the propos show him actually being a medic, cleaning and bandaging wounds and administering medicine. He probably feels almost normal. I'm glad for him.

They even send Clint to District 10 eventually. I am almost sorry I haven't talked to him – he holds burn victims and tells them he's sorry for what happens, and he sings for them. His voice is so beautiful … I look around and see other people are crying. He even walks out in mine fields to help find mines, all though that part's probably staged.

That ends up making me think about Rue. Does she know what's going on here on Earth? I kind of hope she doesn't – I'd want to just leave Earth behind and never look at it again. And anyway … she'd be sad to see what happened to Clint. And probably disappointed in me for shunning him the way I have. But every time I see him, I think about Phillip – what he must have felt in his last moments, being murdered by someone he saved …

It's best not to think about it too much. I see both of them enough in my dreams.

They show Finnick's wedding twice and Prim and I kissing as I leave three times while Bucky and I watch, so I know it's only a matter of time until Bucky asks me, "When did you start going out with Primrose Everdeen?"  
"We're not going out," I say, annoyed, as I turn bright red. "She's my … friend."

"But you …"  
"It's nothing official." Her sister seems to think it is though.

"Do you …" I don't like what he's about to ask, and I'm almost glad when he's interrupted.

One of the special forces District 13 soldiers … one of the few left from the start of the siege … comes and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Captain Rogers …" Has Bucky got _everyone_ doing that? "You need to come with us immediately."  
"What is it?" I ask.

"We've received word from headquarters – you're needed in District 7," he says. That doesn't sound good.

"But why? What's happened?" I ask.

"I don't know – they didn't tell us anything." Wait – aren't Katniss and Spruce supposed to be going there soon? Are they in danger, did something happen?

"But … But we can't leave – we're surrounded …" I stammer.

"We'll get you out, Rogers, don't worry," the soldier says, but those words are not at all comforting. "Come with me now."

"But what about …"  
"Everyone else will be fine – you focus on getting to District 7," he says.

"Bucky …"  
"I'll be fine, Steve, just go do your thing," he says, and gives me a hug – a real hug, not the stupid manly half-hug thing we've been doing.

They hurry me through the halls between towers towards one of the exits that's relatively less guarded – relatively meaning you look at it and only think "we're probably screwed" and not "we're most definitely screwed." The whole time, I am afraid but I can't show it – I try to pray but the words are jumbled, even in my mind. More than I'm afraid for myself, I'm afraid people are going to die for me – I don't think I can live with that. We're several stories up, going out what used to be a fire exit, but they're going to be on the ground with weapons to shoot up at us.

I'm surrounded by a wall of soldiers three thick and given my shield and my gun – there's no cameras here since it's too dangerous for them, and I'll hardly be doing anything impressive so surrounded. We wait for an agonizingly long time at the door while one of the men closest to me shouts into a radio about waiting for a tactical strike and for the hovercraft to be in position. Another, a woman, tells me what I'm going to need to do in this strong, reassuring voice. I know she's terrified, but she sounds totally calm, like we're in training. "The hovercraft is as low as it can get – but they're going to lift you up with a harness. You just keep as much of your body behind your shield as you can – and we'll cover you so they don't get a shot in with any luck," she says. She keeps a hand on my shoulder until the last minute, just trying to give me a little reassurance. Something huge happens that rocks the whole building, and then there is shouting to open the door. I know they just dropped a bomb on the forces at the door – I take a deep breath and try not to shake.

The door opens to Hell.

There's fire and debris blown everywhere from the most recent bombing … and body parts. Is this what the woods looked like when they bombed the refugees from District 12? Poor Katniss! Gunshots and continued bomb blasts go off all around – I have earplugs in but even with those it's deafening. The hovercraft is waiting for me – the woman who had spoken to me straps me into a harness while everyone else fires at the coming onslaught of Peacekeepers. I feel myself being jerked upwards and curl as much as I can and lift the shield to cover my face and most of my torso, and pull up my legs to be mostly behind it.

I feel a hand on my shoulder yanking me in, and then I get dropped back to the end of the rope just outside of the hovercraft while the person who had just tried to pull me in screams in pain and I feel hot, sticky blood on my face and see red splashed across my goggles. Someone else on board grabs me and pulls me on board before I can get hurt, but that's not much comfort. The woman who tried to pull me in first is bleeding profusely but it looks like she was hit in the arm – which makes sense since they were obviously aiming for me. In the chaos I look down and see, through the red, a Peacekeeper has managed to get really close to the soldiers – many of whom are fallen, confirming my worst fears, and without thinking, the training kicks in and I take aim with the gun in my hand while still covering myself with the shield as much as I can and still see, and aim for the unarmored neck on the Peacekeeper who's gotten in so close.

I hit him. Blood splashes out so I know I hit his carotid … or at least the bullet tore through it on its way out. Everything seems to go in slow motion as he crumples to the ground, dead before he hits it, with blood covering his white uniform …

"Nice shot Rogers!" someone cries as the hovercraft doors are slammed shut, but I continue staring at the closed doors, the image of him burned into my mind. Medics rush about – trying to staunch the bleeding from the soldier who tried to pull me up and checking me over. But the annoying person just keeps cheering me on. "Finally lost your battlefield virginity! Too bad there were no cameras around!" The analogy only makes it worse – that's supposed to be a beautiful thing, and this … I'm glad there were no cameras around. I don't want to see this every day …

As soon as I think that, I see it in my mind, just as vividly as the first time. Along with body parts strewn everywhere, and all those District 13 soldiers, at least seven of them, killed to protect me …

I drop my gun and my shield, fall on my knees, and sob. The accolades stop, and the medic checking me over pulls me into a big, comforting hug, and I try to pretend she's my mother or Katniss that I need to apologize to or the female soldier who gave me instructions … Was she one of the ones who died protecting me?

I'm dreading what I'll find in District 7.

* * *

**Author's Note**

I'm guessing District 5 is in what was once West Texas and Eastern New Mexico, since there's abundant oil and natural gas here, plus a lot of sun for solar power, wind for wind power, and lightning storms if they've found a way to harvest that (as proposed in one fanfic). I have never seen a map of Panem that satisfies me so I had to just make some things up. I probably should related this at the beginning, but I'll relate my best guesses as needed. I chose District 5 for Stephen because New York in the future is apparently uninhabited (probably underwater given the reference to rising sea levels) and since 5 is mentioned as an urban district, I relocated several of the New York characters there.

Also I may get some flak for making Stephen as afraid as he is and so easily wounded by just one death, but he's only fourteen. No matter how badass you are, young teenagers and war shouldn't go together (which you will remember was the basis of Coulson's objections). Well really war in general is viewed as a bad thing (even if it's just which is a debate for another time) and could be said not to go with human beings but … especially not people who are still figuring out this puberty thing.

Also I may have spoken too soon about finding a lab. Ugh. We'll see what happens.


	10. District 10 (Peeta)

Chapter 10

District 10

Peeta

When they said they were sending us to war, I thought they meant in the air quotations "war", you're going to be in the green zone but we'll make it look good in editing way. I have greatly underestimated the general's willingness to put a man with a fragile psyche in harm's way.

We touch down pretty close to Clint's ranch in what used to be the victor's village of District 10. Everything around is flat and dry – we're surrounded on all sides by what looks like miles and miles of grassland. Even the sky seems bigger – it's so wide open I almost feel some sort of bizarre reverse claustrophobia. The sun is shining and it's hot – which isn't helping conditions here. It's not exactly a raging war at the moment, but pretty much all of District 10 is a battlefield. I don't know how many propos I've watched where Morgan Stark's voice explains that, "The cowardly Capitol uses mines and air dropped explosive devices to make the fields of District 10 unsafe for livestock and ranchers alike." Apparently they've decided that if they can't eat the meat of District 10, we can't either. It makes sense I guess – it's sort of like our attempts to cut off District 5. Only people don't die if they don't have oil.

Clint practically jumps out of the hovercraft to greet the big, brown skinned man who's waiting for us. "Nesto! I'm so glad … I was worried that …"  
"Nah, they didn't get me. We knew better than to stick around when your brother disappeared – all of us hands and Hidey took off. Toby's brother was in on the rebellion all along – they arranged for people to hide us. Good thing too … they went to our family's houses and searched for us."

"All of you made it?"  
"Yeah – as soon as we saw there was something about rebels at the training center, we dropped everything and ran. You know Hidey – we practically had to tear her away from the laundry. We left just in time – we must have had less than five minutes head start on the Peacekeepers." It bothers me that they apparently had no warning – Howard Stark wouldn't even think about fleeing until the rebels secured his servants, and Duke didn't even give his guys a warning? It's not like he wasn't in on it – he knew what was coming.

"Have you been back to the ranch? What did they do with our animals?" Clint asks.

"It's … It's bad Clint. It's real bad. You don't want to go up there. There's mines everywhere, and even before that … they took all the cattle except the dairy cows, the goats, and the pigs for immediate slaughter and everything else they … they just shot 'em and left 'em to rot." Clint's hands make fists automatically – I know he cared about the animals, and I'm sorry he has to hear this.

"Even the dairy cows? And the sheep? They could have eaten the sheep too, or taken their skin for clothes at least … we've got people dying here, and they just shot perfectly good dairy cows and llamas? Hell, no one around here would turn their nose up at dog meat, and I hear they eat horses in the Capitol."

"Everything. They even shot the chickens and let them go to waste … guess they didn't want to mess with them." That is so wrong. I have no idea what llamas are and I know that eating the dogs wouldn't occur to someone from the Capitol, but chickens? They wasted perfectly good chickens? I'm almost as mad as Clint. I hope the cameraman is getting this – anyone from the outliers who's ever been starving or just desperately hungry for meat will be spurred on by the horrific waste.

"Even the breeding stock? They could have made themselves …"  
"Everything Clint. Everything either got eaten or left to rot up there – they were nasty little pigs about it too … they put Allie and Fluffy's body in your bed and a couple of the sheep in Duke's, and they cut up the horses and llamas and left them lying all around the house … broke my heart seeing what was left of those animals. That house will never be habitable again. Didn't stop people from looting the valuables though." Of course not – even if it stank to high heaven, people would go in looking for stuff they could trade for food. I'm surprised they didn't try to salvage the meat – they must have been scared to go up there the first few days after the escape.

"I'm sorry … what were Allie and Fluffy?" I ask. I'm trying to imagine hauling a dead cow up to Clint's room for no reason other than hoping that if he somehow came back, he'd be greeted with the sight of a rotted animal he used to love.  
"Our dog and our cat," Clint says stiffly. I should have known – they love their dogs here in District 10. Not like in District 12 where we eat them. But they serve a purpose here – the dogs protect the other animals and help the ranchers herd them. And everyone loves cats – they eat mice and rats, what's not to like? "I mean I don't … I don't want to think of Allie and the horses and llamas getting eaten but that would have been better than just … that's so stupid." He's just so mystified by the waste of food – I guess Duke never told him about what they do at their feasts, making themselves throw up just so they can eat more.

"I'm sorry Clint," Nesto and I say at almost the same time. "I tried to grab Fluffy and Allie but there was no time," Nesto adds apologetically.  
"It's … I'm just glad all the people made it out okay, that's the important part," Clint says and forces a very stiff smile. "It probably would have helped if Duke had given y'all some warning …"

"You know we wouldn't have let it happen, if we could have avoided it. We could have just found someone to give the animals to – free cows and goats to everyone, and we would have kept Allie and Fluffy safe for you …" Nesto sees the anger in Clint's eyes and corrects quickly. "But I don't blame Duke, he wasn't in a good state …"  
"He still should have thought about you. It's not the animals, it's that … That if you hadn't gotten Hidey to ditch the laundry or the Capitol hadn't played the news right away, it could have been y'all cut up and left around the house, if you were lucky. I'm glad it was just the horses."  
"Lucky?" Nesto asks, and he almost laughs, but it's a nervous reaction.

"They … we, Spruce and I … heard people being tortured to get to other people while we were … they don't care. In the Capitol. They'll torture anyone. They shot a little girl from Spruce's village just to torture him, and now they burned his whole village down … That's why I didn't want to say the name of the Peacekeeper who helped me and Duke when we were kids … I was afraid they'd find her and hurt her … I wonder if they managed to do that anyway …"

"Look, Clint, why don't we get down to our mission?" I ask, cutting him off before he can sink too deep.

"Right," he says, forcing that same stiff smile. We're supposed to visit a field hospital and then go pretend to be part of the minesweeping effort – they're gonna have us go through a field that's already been cleared in all the gear and have Clint "find" one that's already been deactivated. "Nesto – I take it you're supposed to lead us there?"  
"You know it."

We climb into the truck that Nesto leads us to while I instinctively keep looking up at the skies, even though there haven't been any reports yet of the Capitol being able to use hovercrafts en masse since the battle of District 12. He changes into his costume during the drive – he's not shy so he doesn't mind. His costume is an armored version of what he wore when he and his brother were with the circus – it's a deep purple sleeveless shirt, black pants with sequins, boots the same purple as the shirt, and a black cowboy hat. Like Stephen's, it makes me uncomfortable because it makes him a brightly colored standout from the crowd, and therefore, I would think, a sniper's dream. Fury assured me we won't be in any danger, and if, on the off chance we did go into a danger zone, he'd get a greatly toned down version of it, like Thresh and Stephen do. I don't like that he followed his promise with something that essentially amounted to "but even if I did break that …" Not least of all because the fact they had Clint's costume perfectly fitted and ready to go makes me wonder if he would have sent him out even if he had said, yes, he would kill Tony on sight if he saw him. I glance at the advanced, collapsible bow and elaborate arrows in the advanced quiver on his back, and I hope, if we do run into Tony, it works the way Beatee says.

"You think Kat's okay?" Clint asks when it's too quiet.

"I'm sure she is," I say quickly, even though I don't know.

"She was here just last week – I'm sad they didn't send us sooner, maybe we'd have gotten to spend some time together."  
"That would have been nice," I agree.

"When's the wedding?" Nesto asks, butting in, and I manage not to flinch.

"Um … not until after … we shouldn't have that happiness while so many things are still wrong … in Panem …" he says, and I'm not sure why he would have tried to memorize an answer like that.

"I gotcha – no rush," Nesto says after a moment, but he's clearly puzzled by the answer too. Well, whatever the reason, Clint needs to practice that lie more.

The camp is on the edge of the city – it's just gurneys and makeshift beds, all filled with suffering, burned, bleeding, sick people. I very nearly throw up and the color drains out of Clint's face, but we know we have to keep it together, for the people here and everyone watching through the cameras. I can hear children wailing and adults sobbing, and it's the most depressing sound I can imagine. The smell of burning flesh – I never wanted to smell that again – triggers something and all I can think about that desperate flight through the woods. I calm myself – I think about how I wish I could have comforted my own people during that time, what I wish someone had been able to say to us …

As we start to walk through the aisles of sick people, I stay as warm and friendly as possible – I try not to flinch at the sight of bleeding stumps and chemical burns to the muscle, or gag at the smell of sickness. How do those medical people do this every day? It's horrifying. "Peeta Mellark! You were so brave, saving that little girl from the big Career!" someone calls and I cringe a little. I turn to see an older, very tanned woman with heavy bandages over most of her arms and legs. I place a hand on her unbandaged shoulder.

"But I … I didn't save her … she still …"  
"You almost did it – and you did it when you didn't know anyone was coming," she says. "You're a good boy. A brave boy." I don't know what to say, so I just mutter "thank you" and stay with her for a while.

Clint is _perfect_ with the patients, much better than me – he holds mutilated hands and stumps without the slightest hint of hesitation. He doesn't cringe when everyone wants to touch him even if they have festering sores. He asks everyone's names and listens to their stories, and I try my best to do the same. After about an hour of this, a beautiful little girl, probably about eight or nine, dark headed and with light brown skin, reaches for Clint with her right hand – the only intact limb she has left. Clint takes it and holds it tight. "What's your name sweetheart?" he asks.

"Alfalfa," she answers. She starts to cry, and Clint wipes her tears away.

"I'm sure you were doing something very brave when you got hurt, Alfie," he says as he holds her right hand with his and puts his left hand on her shoulder.

"Lasso and I were trying to save the goats. Four of the goats and Dolly the llama had already died and the others were scared. I knew how much we needed the cheese to keep going, and I thought if I could pick up parts of the dead ones we could at least have meat … I didn't want to eat Dolly or any of our goats but we were so hungry …" her face is sunken and even now you can see the hunger in her eyes.

"It's okay sweetheart – I've had to eat some of the animals I liked sometimes too," he says understandingly. He wisely decides not to share about the bad news he just got – no need to add to her suffering. But his sympathy prompts her to go on.

"I saw the bomb … I was smart enough not to pick it up even though it looked like a doll, because I've seen all the warnings on TV, but I was trying to pick up Spot and he struggled and I stepped back …" and her feet probably came down right on it. I have to guess because she starts to cry, and no amount of soothing from Clint can make her go on. He holds her against his chest and pats her back, letting her literally cry on his shoulder.

"That was very brave, Alfie – don't worry. We're going to make sure everyone gets taken care of."

"Will I ever have legs again?" she asks.

"I'll do my best to make sure everyone has prosthetics like mine," he answers, and shifts her so her back is to him, and flexes his hand in front of her. He's never seemed more comfortable with his new fingers. She smiles a little and reaches out to touch them, but she's still crying.

"But nothing will bring Lasso back," she says stiffly.

"I know. I wish I could. Can I say anything to make you feel better, Alfie?" he asks gently.

"Will you sing?" she asks. "Like Lasso used to sing to me?" I smile – I know she's going to enjoy this.

"What do you want me to sing to you?"

"The mockingbird song?" she asks. I wonder if she asks just because mockingbird is close to mockingjay and she knows about Katniss. Clint takes a moment – I wonder if he doesn't know it, but then he opens his mouth, and delights the crowd with a version of the song that _is _about Mockingjays. "Hush little darling, don't be afraid, you'll be watched over by a mockingjay …" He goes on to list all the Avengers and how they'll protect her, but he makes it sound so peaceful, like a real lullaby. Now I know what he was working on in the hovercraft on the way over – he had a notebook out, making notes. I'm surprised that he mentions Tony, and a little embarrassed that he includes me. I'm not really doing anything, after all.

The words aren't what matters – they're just a bonus, given how badly these people need their spirits lifted – his voice is the main thing. Strong and clear and hitting every note perfectly. Alfalfa's tears stop and then start again – there are tears in my eyes too. You could hear a pin drop with the hush that falls over the rest of the ward, and everyone strains to listen and catch every note, to hold it in their minds for darker times. He finishes the song and she asks for another, and other patients second the motion. "I don't know any other protest songs," he says, with this winning smile I haven't seen from him in so long …

"We don't mind an encore," an old man says, and everyone laughs, so Clint starts again, and by the end, Alfie is starting to fall asleep against his chest. He gently gets up from the bed and lays her down and tucks her in – Cressida's going to be so thrilled. She'll have a lot to work with this week.

At that moment, Nesto, who is just as uncomfortable as we are with the sick and wounded people, comes up to get us to take us on to the next portion of the day – the stage de-mining. "How'd you know someone would ask for that song?" I ask in a whisper.

"I didn't – I just figured if someone asked for a song or a lullaby in general, I'd have something special for them," he says. "If no one had asked for anything like that, I would have just gone off in the corner and sung 'to myself' for the camera on the ride home." I smile – he knows how to play the game. I should expect that – he's been in it since his brother won. Maybe he should have spent some of that time practicing his lie about the wedding date, though.

We go to one of the minefields and, to my surprise, they suit me up too. They put us both in these thick armored suits that you can barely breathe or move in. "How much would these help if we found a live one?" I ask.

"It'd probably stop you from being killed," the woman who is helping me get in one says, in a tone that makes me think I would be alive but not very happy.

We walk along a demonstrated path to "find" several disarmed mines, and play at flagging it for the bomb experts and slowly backing along the same way we had come while the cameras roll. "Is that it?" I ask when we're done, as the same people help us get out of the suits. "Isn't that more than enough?" the camerawoman asks me. "We've got lots of good footage of the two of you now – you've done your part." Yeah – I'm finally useful, I guess.

We've barely gotten back in the truck to head back to the field hospital – the camera people want to get one more "establishing shot" out front and then – when the bomb drops. Nesto slams the brakes on the truck and he, the camera people, and I duck down automatically in the truck, pinning ourselves to the floorboards. The shock wave reverberates in my ribcage and the sound is so loud it sends a stabbing pain into my ears even though I cover them. Clint covers his ears through the initial blast, but he reacts swiftly. He stands up straight, reaches to his back and unhooks the bow from his quiver, and unfolds it in one swift motion, notching an arrow. "Clint …" I call to him, and I can barely hear my own voice through the ringing in my ears left by the blast. He doesn't react to me, and I'm not sure if it's because he can't hear me or because he's deliberately ignoring me. I want him to get down – he's a bright purple target, but I realize what he's doing and bite my tongue. I see him looking, scanning for the telltale outline of the hovercraft, having missed the moment it uncloacked to drop the bomb, and I guess he finds it because he lets the arrow fly before the hovercraft can do any more damage. I wish Tony were here – in his suit he could redirect the wreckage so it didn't do more damage as it fell, but it can't be helped. The craft surely had at least another bomb, which wouldn't be harmed until it was launched for the safety of its pilot, as well as its guns which would have made mincemeat of the helpless people below. The falling wreckage will do less damage.

No no no – if the blast felt that strong from where we were …

Clint's arrow did the trick, the hovercraft uncloaks and crashes, fortunately right into the area it just bombed. I doubt the wreckage will do much more damage than the bomb already did. Clint stays where he is, scanning the sky for more, but thankfully he doesn't see anything just yet.

While he stands in wait, arrows at the ready, all I can think about is the people we were just helping in the hospital, and I leap out of the truck while Nesto cries out in protest. "Peeta no – there's nothing you can do," he calls, but I run on anyway.

There's already a flurry of activity – medics are already at work stabilizing the wounded, well, doubly wounded, while some of their colleagues bark into radios asking for the mine-clearing staff to make their way to them as soon as possible to deal with the fire spreading from the wreckage of the plane and help with heavy lifting. Some of the townspeople have run out to help their neighbors – but most, understandably, stay in their homes. "What can I do?" I ask a passing medic.

"You look strong – go help those two lift that," she answers, and jerks her head at a piece of heavy metal from the hovercraft that has bodies pinned beneath it – at least one of them is moving. Two of the bigger medics are trying to shove it off while another waits to pull the people trapped inside out – I thrust my shoulder under it and heave, only discovering after I do that the metal is white hot, explaining why the other two's hands are wrapped. I shove anyway, but can't stop myself from crying out. Between the three of us we lift it and by now several have joined us to grab the bodies underneath – all of them except one look dead, but it's not worth the risk of leaving someone to a horrible death. The sight of the fresh injuries, the pieces of what used to be human beings blown everywhere, the smell of burning flesh stronger than it was before and now joined by a chemical I can't identify, and my own burning pain arouses painful memories that send panic throughout all of my being and threaten to overwhelm me but I swallow it down and ask what else I can do.

"Are you crazy?" one of the medics asks, looking at my neck and hands. My neck I obviously can't see, but my hands are red and raw and hurt like hell.

"What else can I do?" I repeat, but even while I ask I look around. I see that the medics are moving patients outside the tent, away from the flames, sometimes with the whole cot if that's easier than trying to detach an IV pole in a hurry. I run to help – pumped up with adrenaline, I can pick up an elderly man cot and all without much trouble and still move pretty quickly, whereas it generally takes two or three medics. I know a lot of these people shouldn't be moved but the damage from being moved will be much less than burning to death.

I carry the old gentleman to safety – to about the same distance the only two or three patients who've been moved so fast already were left. I notice they are not taking them into town even thought that would presumably provide more shelter – I imagine most people are either already fleeing or bunkering down, likely unwilling to open their homes. I set his cot down gently and hurry back even though the flames are licking higher and wider now. I try not to think about what's providing fuel for those flames.

I hear another crash as Clint sends another one to the ground – this one thankfully was a little distance away from the hospital. Now the frantic shouting into radios is for air and ground support against an oncoming invasion. I worry for Clint now, since I know he's still a target, but even more I worry for the patients we can still save and feel sick for the ones already gone, which judging by the blast radius is probably at least half of the people under this tent. The chaos is horrifying – the few patients who can run are scattering, fleeing for their lives. Some even run on stumps of legs or crawl along as fast as they can, frequently being tripped over or stepped on by the others. I admire the medics acting coolly and efficiently, trying to save as many lives as possible, at great risk to themselves. As I run back into the chaos, working desperately to move against the stream of fleeing people, looking to grab the first helpless person I see to take to safety, I hear a little girl screaming for the Avengers – I look up and recognize Alfie. I don't hesitate to pick her up – she has no way to run, and no one's thought to carry her yet, probably because she's still fairly far away from the flames and surrounded by people just as unable to run. Normally I would slide one arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulders – as it is I sling her over my shoulder like a potato sack and run, joining the flow of people now. I almost trip over an already battered woman with no legs crawling away, so I bend down and pick her up, getting bumped into by half a dozen people as soon as I stop. I can't quite carry her and Alfie at the same time so I just put the woman against my hip and half-drag, half-carry her. It's not dignified and probably painful but she'll get to safety sooner.

The problem is there's nowhere to go in this flatland but into the city – now that we know there are more coming, we can only scatter and get everyone as far away as possible and desperately hope people can find an open building to take shelter, and that those buildings don't end up collapsed or in flames. Clint takes down another one, and in spite of everything people find it in them to cheer.

A man is standing up in a field on the city's edge, gesturing frantically to get everyone's attention. He is standing by what looks like a door in the ground – I head towards him as fast as I can, as do a stream of other survivors. I get to him and he ushers me inside. The door leads to some narrow, steeply sloped stairs, and I sacrifice a moment to make sure the woman I have found is more comfortable as I go down them. I can't fathom what this place is, but it smells musty and earthy and I am worried it will cave in, but it's better than nothing. Alfie is still crying, understandably. "Hush little darling, don't be afraid / you'll be watched over by a mockingjay …" I start soothingly, even though my voice cracks with fear and pain. I reach the bottom where a few dozen survivors are already huddled, and I help Alfie and the woman get comfortable among them, then head back up. In the narrow stairs, it's hard to fight the stream of people, so I press myself against one of the walls and walk sideways.

"Where are you going?" the man asks as I go past him when I reach the top.

"To get more people," I say, not waiting to see his response. His room is almost full and I'm sure he'll climb down himself and shut the door before long – whatever protection that door is going to give against a bomb, I'm glad for it.

Nesto grabs me on the unburned shoulder as I start to head back to what used to be the field hospital, which now has flames spreading higher and wider – his grip is like iron. "Peeta – air support is here. I have orders to get you two the hell out of here." He has Clint's arm gripped in his other hand – Clint was probably the one who spotted me, on orders.

"Take him, leave me – there's still …" I protest. Clint is valuable – he just proved that. I'm just muscle – and my place is here, gathering survivors.  
"Peeta, everyone in there is gone," Nesto says gravely.

"You said that when I got out of the truck …"  
"Listen, Peeta – the firefighters and bomb squad are doing the best they can. You'll be in the way at this point – you helped while you could, before the pros got there. You don't' need to be underfoot," he says sharply as he starts to physically walk us away. "Clint, you get naked and get back in regular clothes on as soon as we get in the truck. You're a bullseye on us all," he adds sharply.

"I found Alfie," I tell Clint breathlessly as we stop resisting and jog with Nesto. "I got her to a little underground room … I don't know how it will hold up but …"  
"A storm cellar? It can withstand a tornado … unless the Capitol firebombs the daylights out of it, they should be fine down there," he answers. But his eyes are wide and staring and his face is a little green. I know he's scared and probably a little sick over the battle he just had to fight – I'm just glad he held up so well. I guess since Tony and the Games weren't part of the equation, he was able to keep his head.

As soon as we climb in Nesto's truck, which already holds the terrified camera crew, Clint leans over the side and vomits while Nesto starts the car and accelerates it as fast as possible. Between that, the smoke bearing awful scents, and the knowledge of all the deaths that just happened, I do too. "I screwed up," Clint moans when he sits back against the backseat.

"Get naked!" Nesto shouts, but Clint doesn't comply right away.

"I shouldn't have shot that while it was over …"  
"Clint, what choice did you have? To let it drop a few more bombs and use its guns?" I demand, and surprisingly that seems to work. He still looks pale but he nods and does as Nesto says, putting away the bright costume and putting on the clothes he had on before.

We get back on the hovercraft and Clint doesn't want to tell Nesto goodbye – he hugs him tight and I almost have to pry him off.

The doors slam shut and we get up in the air almost immediately. "Where are we going now?" I call to the pilot.

"District 11," he answers.

"Wherabouts in District 11?" Clint asks.

"The west border." Oh joy – another war zone. I really kind of hate General Fury right now.

Clint and I slump against the side of the craft, exhausted but unable to sleep. As soon as I'm still and the adrenaline subsides, I'm screaming in agony from the burn on my shoulder. The medic who travels with us jabs me in the arm with a needle, then gets to work tending the wound. Her work only hurts even worse at first – I scream in pain as she cuts away my shirt and disinfects the burn – but then the jab starts to work. I start to feel warm and happy inside, and nothing bothers me anymore. The pain is a distance memory and I feel numb all over the place, inside and out.

I tilt my head to the side and watch almost disinterestedly as Clint, still pacing and nervous despite the same medic giving him antianxiety pills, turns on the small screen on the opposite wall of the hovercraft, to watch the rebel broadcast, hoping to calm his nerves by seeing what becomes of the battle he's left behind.

I'm already so happy and calm inside that I feel almost nothing as I watch the rebels win their first battle of the revolution.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Update on school situation: I found a lab and the funding is secure but I was so worried about this situation I blew my final. *facepalm* I get to stay but I am on academic probation and will have to work really hard next semester to make it up. I also don't get paid by the school for the next two months for sure, possibly not for the next five months, so I will have to take another job for the summer, possibly in addition to lab work and definitely in addition to cleaning and consolidating my things to one half of the apartment and finding a roommate. (Which I would have to do anyway because I get paid less by the lab but I realized it sooner due to screw-up costing me my savings.) So … updates may be rather slow. (My current excuse for slowness is going home to visit family.) TLDR; I screwed up, it will be okay eventually, but I will be posting slow. Sorry.

I'm guessing District 10 is in North Texas, Oklahoma, and Kansas, since that's mostly prime cattle country, and if there's some land you can't raise cows on you can probably raise goats there since goats will be okay on pretty much any kind of vegetation.

If you were wondering whether Nesto is a butchering of Nestor or Ernesto … the answer is both. I'm guessing they may have sort of fused together in the future of District 10.

I have never tried it for obvious reasons but I've been informed that cat meat tastes really horrible, like how you imagine cat urine tastes based off the smell. I don't know of any culture where cat meat is a common foot item, probably for this reason. They would probably still eat cat if they got desperate enough in the districts but it wouldn't be anyone's first choice which is why I don't mention anyone eating Fluffy but mention eating pretty much literally all the other animals.

I started off trying to make Clint's costume less ridiculous than the comics version and I think I made it worse. Oh well. It is a circus act costume after all.

I suck at writing songs, so I decided to spare you guys my sad attempt at songwriting with the rebel version of "Mockingbird Don't Sing." I actually wrote it out and realized how terrible it was and was like, "That is no way to repay people who've read the story this far …" If someone wants to write that for me to include (with credit of course) I would be incredibly grateful.

Peeta is being self-deprecating when he says Clint is better with the patients – he does just as well if not better.

And awesomely Jeremy Renner actually is involved in raising awareness for mine clearing charities but I didn't think about that until after I started writing. He also sings, which I did think about while I was writing – his voice is not quite the "voice of the angels" I give Clint here but much better than most of the Hollywood actors who claim to be singers too. (Gary Oldman had a funny sketch on Jimmy Kimmel about "Actors Against Athletes Acting" – I think we need one with "Singers Against Hollywood Actors Singing.") I wanted to add the musical stuff with him because in the books, it's such a huge part of Peeta's attraction to Katniss and Katniss's relationship with her father. And girls always go for boys like their dad. (Also, poor Peeta. I'm so sorry.)

It is possible for a person full of adrenaline to run on the stumps of legs – my grandfather witnessed sailors doing so after his ship was hit by a kamikaze in WWII. The body is capable of amazing things in a state of fear.


End file.
